


Iwaoi Week 2017

by FairyLights101



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Anal Fingering, Angst, Child Iwaizumi Hajime, Confessions, Demon Oikawa Tooru, Drunk Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Meetings, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, IwaOi Week, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Smut, Unrequited Love, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-26 23:19:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10796853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyLights101/pseuds/FairyLights101
Summary: Seven fills for iwaoi week. Summaries are in the notes of each chapter.





	1. Sempiternal

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1: **Immortality/College**  
>  SFW, Violence, Minor Gore
> 
> “I know, I know,” Oikawa grumbled as he raked his fingers through his hair. “It’s just… we’re so , _close_ to having a breakthrough, and after ten years, this kinda gets boring. Like, yeah, I’d love to find the secret to immortality as much as the next mage, but what’s it going to matter if we’re on our deathbeds by the time we do? I know we have longer lifespans than regular humans, but-”
> 
> “We’ll find it,” Iwaizumi broke in, voice steady and strong. “I know we will. Have some faith.”

“Iwa-chan, look at all these books I brought!” 

Iwaizumi glanced up from his own book, so fragile that he had to use the most delicate of winds to slowly lift the pages to even transcribe them so he could hope to translate and make sense of the contents of the book before they crumbled to dust. 

Oikawa raised his satchel, but he froze when Iwaizumi’s glare landed on him, and instead he moved to the table opposite and opened it, pulling out fifteen battered books from the engorged space inside. “These are super rare ones! I filched them from the goblins near Shiratorizawa Academy, though they won’t be missing them too much. I think they had no clue they had texts from  _ the _ Nicolas Flamel.” 

Iwaizumi grunted and refocused on the pages of his book, slowly scratching out another row of characters before he glanced up, found Oikawa leaning against the table with a grin, mismatched eyes glittering. 

“What, no kiss for coming back safe and sound?” 

Iwaizumi scowled at the other mage. “No kiss for interrupting my work.” 

“Iwa-chan, that’s so rude! I did what you asked me to do!” 

“Have you examined the three tomes you had  _ before _ you went off and found those?” 

“... No.” 

Iwaizumi sighed and cast a bubble around the ancient book so he could lean back and stare at his partner. “Oikawa, you know they’re expecting results. We’ve been working for ten years, and we still have nothing. If we don’t get something soon-” 

“I know, I know,” Oikawa grumbled as he raked his fingers through his hair. “It’s just… we’re  _ so close _ to having a breakthrough, and after ten years, this kinda gets boring. Like, yeah, I’d love to find the secret to immortality as much as the next mage, but what’s it going to matter if we’re on our deathbeds by the time we do? I know we have longer lifespans than regular humans, but-” 

“We’ll find it,” Iwaizumi broke in, voice steady and strong. “I know we will. Have some faith.” 

Oikawa grinned and scooted a little closer, fingers flicking and golden sparks trailing through the air. “Oh, I do. I have all the faith in the world in you, Hajime. Sometimes I just want to spend some time with you.” 

Iwaizumi stared at Oikawa for a moment before he ducked his head, smiling as he shook his head. He rose, dusted off his navy robes, and stepped close to Oikawa, holding a hand out. His partner’s eyes brightened instantly and Oikawa slid off the table as he slipped their hands together, fingers tangling as they pressed close. Iwaizumi’s eyes were lidded, guided by countless memories, as he leaned forward and brushed their lips together, Oikawa giggling, delighted, against him. Iwaizumi could only smile and press closer, one arm slinking around Oikawa’s slender waist to delve into his black traveling gear, clutching at the gold sash around his waist as he breathed in deep. 

Truly, despite his complaints, he’d longed for the familiar warmth, an ache taking its place on those long nights, and he’d found himself wandering around, chasing after the lingering scents of sage and wormwart, of Oikawa’s citrus-tinged magic to his own clay-like magic. His hand wandered up, coaxed a soft hum from Oikawa as his fingers tangled into his soft hair, tugging gently as their lips moved together leisurely, no rush, no need to do so. Not when they had all the time in the world together, immortality be damned. 

Iwaizumi pulled back after a moment, smiling as Oikawa pressed their cheeks together and leaned into him, heavy. “Have you eaten since you got back?” 

“Nah, but Mattsun is going to bring us dinner. He and Makki want to catch up a bit and see us since it’s been a while.” 

Iwaizumi snorted. “That’s an understatement. Been at least two years. They finally done with their sabbatical?” 

“Yeah, and looking significantly more…  _ fucked.  _ Like, as in they fucked each other.” 

Iwaizumi leaned back, one thick brow raised as Oikawa grinned at him, delighted. 

“I  _ know,  _ it only took them forever!”

“... Fuck, now I owe Kunimi two-hundred crowns.” 

Oikawa’s smile froze, eyes wide as the joy drained from his face. “Oh fuck… I forgot about that honestly.” 

Iwaizumi slowly leaned forward and let his forehead thump lightly against Oikawa’s collarbone. “Maybe he forgot?” 

“Doubtful. That kid has a wicked memory.” 

Iwaizumi groaned and shook his head, Oikawa shaking with silent laughter beneath him. Slender fingers worked their way along Iwaizumi's arms, tracing thick muscles draped in formless robes, and then Oikawa's fingers danced to the clasps of his outer robes, undoing them one by one until it was loose. Iwaizumi shifted, let Oikawa push it from his shoulders as they leaned into one another, lips brushing, hands wandering. “Hajime,” Oikawa breathed, “I missed you.” 

“That makes one of us,” Iwaizumi snorted, but he reached up, tangled his fingers into Oikawa's soft hair and pulled him in, licking his way into his mouth with a smile as he drew in that familiar scent, relished in the warmth of the hand that pressed into his chest, slid across his arm, traced scars hidden by fabric, reminders of the trials that they'd gone through to be standing where they were. “I love you,” Oikawa whispered. 

“I love you too.” 

Oikawa grinned and pulled back, eyes brilliant. “They'll be up in a bit. I'll get the table set.”

* * *

 

Oikawa glared at the mice that sat inside their cage, some of them having enough energy to wash their faces, but most of them lying listlessly on the floor of it, too weak to move. “Where did we go  _ wrong _ ?” he groaned as he flung himself back in his chair, hands tangling into his long hair, pulling it loose from the braid Iwaizumi had pulled it into nearly twelve hours before. 

“I don’t know,” he said softly as he leaned closer, eyes narrowed as he inspected the mice. The control group in the cage to the left were still in their prime, racing on their wheel and running around, chowing down on the treats that Oikawa had dropped in there a few minutes before. But the other group, the one they’d given the potion to a few days before, had only seemed to wither, like something had sucked the very life from them. 

“It’s a good thing we’re testing this on mice first…” 

Iwaizumi shook his head and pushed back, the quill hovering in the air beside him scratching madly at the pad of paper. “Have to record it anyways. At least it had some effect on their aging this time. I can’t see gray whiskers, and they haven’t turned pink or tripled in size.” 

“True… that’s improvement I suppose.” Oikawa sighed and shoved himself upright in his chair, hands settling into his lap as he stared at his fingers, covered in bites and nicks. “I’m just getting tired of this. It feels like we’re endlessly chasing something we’ll never get.” 

Iwaizumi twisted, back to the cages, and faced Oikawa fully, drinking in his appearance. He looked ragged, deep circles marring the skin beneath his eyes, his color a little paler than normal. His hair had grown out, still cleanly kept, but now hanging past his shoulders, always kept back in a braid that Iwaizumi pulled it into every morning. His nice robes were gone once more, abandoned for the three-day-old ones, just like when they’d been five years into the experiments and he’d lost his motivation for a brief time, doubting himself, afraid of failure, that they would be kicked out for being unable to do  _ anything. We can do this, Tooru. We can. I know it.  _ Because, in the end, they were nothing but tenacious, and Oikawa was  _ brilliant.  _

Iwaizumi shifted, pressed closer, and sank onto the bench beside Oikawa, curling one hand around the back of his neck as he leaned close, pressed their foreheads together. “Hey,” he whispered. 

“Hey…” Oikawa croaked, voice thick. His hands rose, trembling and uncertain, before they curled into Iwaizumi’s forest green tunic and clutched it tight, subtle shudders shaking his shudders. 

Iwaizumi pressed closer, curling his other arm around his body as he sighed. “It’s alright,” he murmured, stroking the nape of Oikawa’s neck, “I promise. They’re not going to kick us out. We’re going to do it. We can, I promise.” 

Oikawa jerked back, eyes bloodshot, voice thick as he shook his head. “But  _ no one else has,  _ Hajime! No one else in  _ five hundred years,  _ so what the fuck makes us so special, what-” 

The lights in the sconces flickered, the wooden beams overhead creaking as magic crackled off Oikawa, tasting of lightning, of  _ fear.  _

But Iwaizumi only moved in closer, pressing their cheeks together as he guided Oikawa’s hand to his chest, curling their fingers over his heart, steady and sure, unlike Oikawa’s, which surely fluttered, terrified. The light in the room resettled, the roof ceased its creaking. 

“It will be okay. We’re in this together. Even if we don’t succeed, we put our successors a little bit closer. Besides, after the Cataclysm, we’re rebuilding from the ground up basically. The fact that we’ve come this phenomenal enough as it is. We can do it, I promise. Just a little bit more, alright?” 

Oikawa sniffed, shook his head as he shoved his nose into Iwaizumi’s neck. “How much longer, Hajime?” he breathed. “How much longer?” 

He could only bite his lip and pull Oikawa in a little tighter, fingers clenching in his dirty robes. He couldn’t answer that, couldn’t even begin to guess - they’d been working so hard for so long that even  _ he _ was beginning to feel a little hopeless at it all, at the sheer ambitiousness of their project.  _ Maybe if he had gone with Ushijima- _ Iwaizumi shook his head, pushed back until they could see one another, Oikawa’s still damp with tears. “It doesn’t matter as long as I get to work with you.” 

Oikawa managed a watery smile as he nodded, and it was easy to draw him in, to press slow, soft kisses to his lips and ease him open until he sighed and melted into the gentle touches. After that, it was even easier to coax him up and away from the dying mice, to tug him towards their private baths and wait by the edge while Iwaizumi drew water through the enchanted pipes and poured exotic bath salts into the steaming water. Oikawa sank in with a happy sigh, the tension melting out of his shoulders as he let Iwaizumi clean him, careful and gentle, running a cloth down his body before he worked oils through his long hair, working out the sweat and dirt and scent of stale magic before he tackled his own body. 

By the time he finished, Oikawa was half-asleep in the bath, only out of the water from how he’d slumped against the edge, arms stretched out onto the cool, slick teal tiles. Bewitched towels dried them off, and Oikawa’s hand found his, their fingers curling together as they slipped into the bedroom, crawled beneath sheets that hadn’t been disturbed in far too long. Iwaizumi pulled Oikawa close, buried his face into that soft hair, and waited until the familiar lull of Oikawa’s breaths appeared, steady and deep, before he let a scowl twist his lips. 

_ I hope it doesn’t take much longer. Otherwise…  _ He could already see the grays, could feel the ache of beginning to grow old. 

_ Is it so greedy, to want to spend the rest of eternity with him?  _ Perhaps, but he couldn’t find enough willpower to truly care as he closed his eyes and squeezed Oikawa’s hand, breathing in the scent of frozen vanilla salts from the far reaches of the north.

* * *

 

“Hajime!  _ Hajime, oh my gods,  _ you have to come here right  _ now _ !” 

Iwaizumi jerked upright, limbs flailing and eyes fluttering open, heavy and aching as he blinked at Oikawa. His partner stood in the doorway, beaming as he waved a stack of papers and shoved his glasses up higher. “Hajime! C’mon! The results show something different!” 

Iwaizumi worked his jaw, eyes slowly opening and closing as he tried to work through the fog that lay thick in his mind. Oikawa stared at him, deep brown eyes blown wide, shifting eagerly from foot to foot as he waited not so patiently on him. Iwaizumi’s eyes flew open. He flung himself off the couch, Oikawa grinning victoriously as he whirled around and darted out, braid flapping through the air, a lure that Iwaizumi chased out from their study and into the work area. 

The books that littered the area had thinned, the resources dwindling over the years until they were scraping through material, improvising more often than not, tweaking ingredients, brewing times, picking times, and gods knew how many other variables. But he followed Oikawa to the table that housed their latest clan of mice, snow-white with beady red eyes, breathtakingly intelligent and beautiful specimens. Mice who had already lived for longer than expected. Iwaizumi rubbed his eyes and followed Oikawa, watching as he jabbed wordlessly to a bundle of fur in the corner - a  _ blood-stained _ bundle of fur. 

“Tooru-” 

_ “Watch,” _ he hissed. Iwaizumi glanced at him, one eyebrow raised, but he shook his head and leaned closer, eyes glued to the bundle. It was one of the larger mice, one that had been bitten viciously, probably by a competitor in the cage. The wound was so deep that he could see sinew, muscle, and bone glistening through the slick ooze of blood and matted fur. Its chest rose and fell rapidly, eyes flickering and ears twitching as its nose worked, scenting the air. 

“It’s been wounded all day now, and yet it hasn’t died, even though that wound is  _ fatal.  _ Hajime, it-” He grabbed Oikawa by the shoulders, already grinning as he spun his partner around. Giggles bubbled up, spilling from Oikawa’s lips as fresh tears burned in their eyes. “Maybe-” 

“Could be-” 

“Fluke?” 

“Can’t be, it-” 

“Healing-” 

“-life span-” 

_ “Hajime.”  _

_ “Tooru.”  _

They flung themselves forward, crushing their mouths together in a quick kiss before they spun apart. Oikawa eased the cage open and thrust his hand in, shooing the healthy mice away before he slowly, delicately, scooped the injured one up into his hand. It squeaked quietly in protest, but it didn’t bite, didn’t run away. If anything, it almost seemed  _ pleased _ to have the attention. 

Iwaizumi flicked his fingers, one of the spare cages descending from the shelves behind them, already making itself, and Oikawa eased the mouse inside when the cage settled on the tabletop, ready for its new resident. “We have to keep an eye on this one,” he breathed as he settled close, eyes glued to the mouse as it heaved itself to its feet, shook itself a little, and trotted over to the food bowl, acting as though it didn’t have a  _ fucking gaping wound in its neck.  _

“Fuck yes we do,” Iwaizumi croaked, shaking his head in disbelief. Already, the wound looked like it was healing, and, if he narrowed his eyes and watched close enough, he could almost  _ swear _ that the muscles were shifting, coming back together ever so slowly.  _ What the actual fuck?  _ “Do we tell them?” he breathed. 

“Not yet,” Oikawa whispered. “We need to make sure this one can heal and survive for at least another year. That’ll mean it’s lived for fifteen years. And if that’s the case…” 

“Then we’re  _ done _ .” 

Oikawa grinned and glanced up at him. “Yeah… we are.”

* * *

 

Iwaizumi watched as Oikawa wrung his hands nervously, bouncing on the balls of his feet. His hands rose, nervously twitching through his hair before he spun around and smoothed his robes down, mumbling under his breath. He reached out, curled a hand over Oikawa’s shoulder. “Be calm,” he whispered. 

Uncertain brown eyes snapped over, wide, scared, and Iwaizumi couldn’t find the heart to tease Oikawa. He wasn’t as calm as he appeared either, tapping his foot quietly on the stone floors as he waited, stomach flipping, twisting, heaving as he rubbed his hands together. The examiners were due to be in their quarters at any minute, ready to inspect what was practically their life’s work to see whether or not they would be staying at the college or not. Whether they had been worth all that time, all those resources. Iwaizumi’s hand trailed down Oikawa’s arm, slipped their fingers together, and Oikawa shifted in closer, pressing into him with a muted sigh as they sagged into one another, Oikawa’s chin finding his shoulder, fingers curling into his robes. 

“Thank you,” he breathed. 

“Of course.” Iwaizumi leaned back, pressed a soft kiss to Oikawa’s lips, and they turned to the entrance, fingers interlocked between them, and waited. 

It only took another minute or two for the knock to come, for them to move forward and open it. Three examiners stood in the doorway, severe in their black robes edged and detailed in harsh reds. Iwaizumi swallowed hard, wiped his sweaty palms on his robes as he and Oikawa dipped into bows. “Greetings, Elders. Right this way.” The three men eyed them. Only one, Elder Nakamura, smiled at them as he and Oikawa turned and led them further into the study. 

The cages with mice were seated on there, along with stacks of research and a flask filled with a sludge-colored liquid that bubbled ominously. The mouse, which Oikawa had dubbed Sanosuke, sat in his solitary cage, cleaning his whiskers and nosing at his fur. Only the thinnest of scars lingered from the bite wound that should have been fatal. No other signs that their mouse had defied the odds, had survived something that should have killed it, and lived for far longer than natural. The others in the cage to the right of him hadn’t demonstrated the same healing abilities, but two in the one to the left had.  _ This is enough. We have it. We’ve got it. The cure to mortality, at least in some form.  _

Oikawa turned, grinning, and waved at the stacks of research, at the mice. “As you can see, these look like ordinary lab mice. However, these particular mice have survived for fifteen years at this point, seven times the average mouse’s lifespan. Sanosuke, the mouse in the center, is our pride and joy, because he defied the odds and survived what should have been a fatal wound.” 

Iwaizumi flicked his fingers, and the sketches of Sanosuke’s wound floated in the air, gristle and muscle and bone visible through the carefully rendered blood and fur. Eyes a little wider, curious, the Elders leaned in, closely inspecting the drawings before they shifted over to examine the cages. Oikawa started to explain, voice smooth and lilting and he guided the Elders through the process of selection and how they’d perfected it to the point they had, allowing for those impossible lifespans and healing abilities. 

With every word, every bit of research Oikawa presented, the Elders looked a little more impressed, a little more excited, and, when Oikawa finished, eyeing them expectantly, Elder Nakamura smiled broadly at them, his wrinkled, dark eyes glittering. “Well boys, you’ve certainly done a fine job.” 

“Thank you, sir,” Oikawa chirped, hands clasped together in front of him as he grinned, glanced to Iwaizumi, who nodded.  _ We did it.  _ After so many years, after so much hard work, they were done, at least for now, to a place where they could settle back and continue their observations to see if things needed to be tweaked anymore. He wanted to grab Oikawa, wanted to crush their lips together and sink to the star-filled roof above, but he held back, biting back a smile of his own as he watched Oikawa. “We’ve worked hard to get this far, and I’m sure with-” 

Something blurred in front of Iwaizumi, dark and swift. Oikawa jerked back, face going slack as his head slowly tipped down, found the lance of darkness that had shot straight through his chest, seething and rippling. Iwaizumi’s heart stuttered to a stop. It was almost comical, how torturously slow the soft blue robes Oikawa had donned hours earlier, so panicked until Iwaizumi had found them and pressed them into his hands so he could get dressed before he prodded Oikawa into a chair to braid his waist-length hair, weaving in braided strands of glittering gold and robin’s egg blue, began to turn red, just a little at first, and then spreading, seeping into the fabric and staining it black. A dribble of blood spilled from Oikawa’s lips, splattered onto the ground, eyes fluttering as his knees gave out and he buckled, hit the ground with a soft sound. 

Iwaizumi spun, hand flying up, a rippling shield forming around him a second before similar bolts of darkness struck hit. Elder Nakamura held his head high, grinning brightly despite the blood splattered across his face, the other two Elders sprawled on the ground beside him, heads turned into bloody pulps, puddles of crimson forming beneath them. 

Nakamura turned to him, head cocked to the side, dark eyebrows rising a little as he took a step closer. “Well, Hajime, this isn’t much of a surprise unfortunately. You’ve always been quick with the shields, even unconsciously. You really did make this quite the hassle. Well, I can work with this.” Nakamura strode forward and snatched the flask off the table, studying it as he flexed his fingers, dark energy crackling off them. “This is it then, hm? Looks very… disgusting. No matter.” 

The Elder turned, moved forward, halted. Their eyes fell together, found Oikawa on the ground, wheezing as he clutched at Nakamura’s robes with a trembling hand smeared with crimson. He pulled tighter, shaking his head as he tried to pull himself forward. “D… on’t… You son… of a… bitch.” 

Nakamura’s leg snapped around, collided with Oikawa’s face with a sickening crack, and Iwaizumi slammed himself against the shield, nails fighting for purchase as Oikawa slumped, totally limp. Iwaizumi whirled around, found Nakamura grinning at him, no longer looking like a sweet, elderly man, but like a demon. Iwaizumi dropped his shield, shattering apart into millions of shards of rainbow-filled light as he took a step closer, overtop Oikawa’s prone body. His hands shot up, fire snapping off his fingertips.

A cloud of darkness rose, but Iwaizumi was already moving, bolts of light crackling off his fingers as he dodged under the suffocating cloud of darkness. Nakamura had slid back, eyes narrowed, the flask clutched in one hand as he sent sweeping bursts of darkness out, one after another. Iwaizumi deflected them with transparent rainbow shields that burst apart, snapping the darkness up and spilling into bursts of glitter as he shot gusts of wind past them. 

Papers swirled through the air, years and years of research colliding with the explosions of magic. The scent of char and blood filled the air. 

He sliced his hand through the air, cut a swath of ice through - it hit Nakamura in the shoulder and the Elder twisted, hit the ground and collapsed. The flask clattered to the ground and bounced away, spinning to a stop by a bookshelf. Nakamura slapped a hand to his shoulder, where ice had locked his arm in place, steam rising from his hand, but Iwaizumi was on him in an instant. He kicked the man square in the chest, hard enough that something cracked sharply, and Nakamura flew back, rolling and screaming. 

Iwaizumi pounced on him, fists wreathed with fire that seared Nakamura’s face as he drove punches into the man’s face, again and again, blood flying, hands scraping along him, garbled cries fading. 

There was a painful heat in his gut, a fog in his mind. 

Only one with was clear -  _ get to Oikawa.  _

He didn’t stop until the scrabbling touches stilled, until the chest beneath him no longer rose and fell, and Iwaizumi staggered to his feet, eyes wide, and blinked. He slowly turned, head tipping to the side. Oikawa was still on the ground, perfectly still. 

_ No.  _

Iwaizumi lunged forward, right as Oikawa sucked in a shuddering breath and raised his head, eyes unfocused, face smeared with blood. “Haji…” He sounded terrified, and the trembling fingers that found Iwaizumi’s robes, tugging and pawing at him, left Iwaizumi reeling as he pulled Oikawa close, stared at the gaping wound in his chest. 

“Tooru…” 

“Don’t… want… don’t wanna go… wanna… don’t let me go. Don’t… make me go… Haji-” 

Iwaizumi’s head snapped up, eyes falling on the flask by the bookshelf. His hand shot out and the bottle flew up, spinning through the air to meet it, and he tore the cork out with his teeth as he tipped Oikawa’s head up with one hand. Oikawa blinked, no longer quite seeing, but when Iwaizumi pressed the lip of the flask to his lips, his mouth opened up. He could barely swallow, gagging and wheezing, but when he’d swallowed half the potion Iwaizumi eased him down, pressed tight over the wound on his front as he cradled Oikawa’s head, gentle, trembling. 

“Don’t… let me go…” Oikawa whispered. 

“I won’t,” Iwaizumi croaked, eyes burning, everything crashing together, colliding as he shook his head, frantic, and swept his fingers through Oikawa’s hair. “No one is letting you go today. No one. Tooru, I love you, so much. You’re not allowed to leave, you’re not-” A sob rocked him as he pulled Oikawa close, clutching him desperately as he pressed closer. 

A hand found his head. Settled. Squeezed. “I’m… not.”


	2. Closer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 2: Unrequited/Firsts  
> DubCon due to alcohol consumption. NSFW.
> 
> “ _Iwa-chan,_ where have you _been_?” Oikawa sang as he flung himself at Iwaizumi, arms wrapping tight around his neck as he pressed their cheeks together, the scent of sweet vodka and cologne heavy on him, but in a good, familiar way, one that left Iwaizumi weak as he wrapped his arms around Oikawa in a hug, which ceased the whining in his ears.
> 
> “I’ve been sitting on the couch literally two meters from you, dumbass.”

Iwaizumi swallowed hard, shook his head, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Oikawa, eyes glued to the way his body undulated beneath the strobing black lights, making the pretty flowers on his shirt positively glow. He looked beautiful, a sheen of sweat on his skin, eyes closed, hands above his hand as he swayed and bounced to the beat, more than happy to let people pull him close and grind against him, fitting their bodies close -  _ too close.  _ It left a sour taste in Iwaizumi’s mouth, one he chased away with the taste of cheap beer as he settled back onto the couch, hands clenched on his thighs. 

With how many drinks Oikawa had knocked back, especially so quickly, it was astounding that he was able to move so fluidly, arms slipping through the air, making hypnotic trails through the air that lured Iwaizumi’s eyes down to follow the ripples of his body, to trace his body, pleasantly on display in his button down and jeans that might as well have been painted on for how tight they were, hips rocking and rolling, fluid in a way that left Iwaizumi aching and biting his lip, hand tightening on his can. 

_ Stop. Just stop already.  _

Stop, because he didn’t want to make a mistake. Didn’t want to drag Oikawa out of the party, pull him onto the porch, and press him against the side of the house and kiss him until they couldn’t breathe, fuck him until Oikawa knew how to say nothing but his name. But, even more tempting, was the thought of actually doing that. Of taking Oikawa and pushing away the other people who came to him to claim his best friend as his own, to press close and capture those soft-looking lips in a kiss, to settle his hands on those hips and tug them close, grinding them together until- 

Iwaizumi’s teeth clicked together and he tore his eyes away, focused on the drink in his hand as he dipped it back, throat working to drink it all. Some spilled down his neck, onto his shirt, but he didn’t care, didn’t pay attention. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t looking for anything but blankness, a momentary reprieve from the bone-deep ache of love he couldn’t seem to shake off, no matter how hard he tried - and  _ fuck,  _ had he tried. The one-time flings had been a thing for a short time. Then the relationships with people he didn’t care for, but thought he might have a chance. It had dissolved from attempts to just giving up, to accepting that he would endlessly be in love with Oikawa, too afraid to act on it, too sure his friend only loved him as that - a  _ friend.  _

Iwaizumi sighed, ran his hand down his face, and glanced around. Everyone else looked like they were having fun. The place smelled like weed and cheap booze, sweat and too much perfume. He was the only one sulking in the corner, eyes glued to the dance floor. To Oikawa. He set his drink to the side. Rose to his feet.  _ I should just get out of here.  _ For his second party on campus, it was pretty shit. Then again, having to watch a guy press up to Oikawa and roll their hips together, lips tracing his ear oh so subtly wasn’t exactly Iwaizumi’s idea of a  _ fun time.  _

_ I should just go.  _

Oikawa could find his way back, or one of the fraternity brothers would let him sleep on the couch or walk him back to his own dorm room. 

He should have, but instead he shoved his way through the crowd, tapped the guy’s shoulder, and the blond glanced down at him, one eyebrow raised. Iwaizumi’s eyes narrowed, hot jealousy biting at his stomach as he brushed his fingers across Oikawa’s shoulder. His friend didn’t seem to have realized that his partner was no longer dancing, pure bliss etched into his face as he grinned, head bobbing from side to side. T

he man scowled, but at Iwaizumi’s flinty glare he backed off, grumbling as he shifted back into the crowd. Iwaizumi wrapped his arm around Oikawa’s bicep, squeezed, and his friend stilled, blinking dopily at him with a sweet smile.  _ “Iwa-chan,  _ where have you  _ been _ ?” Oikawa sang as he flung himself at Iwaizumi, arms wrapping tight around his neck as he pressed their cheeks together, the scent of sweet vodka and cologne heavy on him, but in a good, familiar way, one that left Iwaizumi weak as he wrapped his arms around Oikawa in a hug, which ceased the whining in his ears. 

“I’ve been sitting on the couch literally two meters from you, dumbass.” 

Oikawa giggled, shaking his head as he started to sway slightly. “Sorry,” he drawled, “I was just… busy dancing. The music is so  _ nice _ .” 

Iwaizumi snorted, shifted out of the embrace and tried to plant a hand on Oikawa’s back, but his friend grabbed his hand, set his heart thumping wildly as he bit his way into a scowl. “We should go. It’s late, and you’re drunk.”  _ We both are.  _ He could feel it in him, sloshing and warm, putting a golden edge on everything -  _ especially _ Oikawa. 

His friend whined a little, but he draped himself across Iwaizumi’s back and allowed himself to be dragged out of the party, people calling goodbyes as they left the fraternity house and began the long walk back to Oikawa’s dorm. They lived across campus from one another, which was inconvenient at best, but something had fucked up with the housing, and so Iwaizumi had to haul his ass in the complete opposite direction with what may as well have been dead weight on his back. “You’re lucky I love you,” he mumbled, paling when he realized what he’d said. 

Oikawa giggled and leaned closer, smushing their cheeks together once more as he hummed. “I love you too, Ha-ji-me!” he sang, fingers curling into the collar of Iwaizumi’s shirt. “So sweet… Iwa-chan’s so nice, carrying me back to my dorm. Such a… mmm.” 

Oikawa broke off into a fresh round of giggles as Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and paused, crouched. “Get up on my back. It’ll go quicker.” 

Oikawa made a noise, and he clumsily pressed forward slumped. Iwaizumi groaned, but he wrapped his hands around his friend’s thighs and hitched him up onto his back. Oikawa hummed and slumped against him, his stupidly long limbs dangling around Iwaizumi, hands brushing across his stomach, feet somewhere near his knees. Iwaizumi sighed and cast a glance up at the night sky.  _ The things I do for this bastard, I swear.  _ But he’d do this and so much more. He’d piggyback Oikawa across campus and back. He’d drop out of college to go travel with him if he asked. He’d change schools, he’d move to America, he’d fight off anyone who dared to hurt him - he’d do  _ anything.  _ And he couldn’t even regret that, not that he wanted to. 

He shook his head and started to walk, careful to not jostle Oikawa too much as he made the slow trek back. Oikawa hummed softly in his ears, a mixture of English, Japanese, and French as he sang along to songs Iwaizumi only knew because of Oikawa under his breath, right into his shoulder. 

By the time they’d crossed the stadium parking lot and almost made it to Oikawa’s dorm, Iwaizumi was sweating profusely, but Oikawa had slipped into rock songs, his raspy voice soft, losing all of that false, cheery brightness he usually infused his voice with, replaced instead by a sultry warmth. Iwaizumi couldn’t help but shiver, the low tenor of Oikawa’s voice in his ears doing nothing good for his body, but he hitched his friend up higher, tried to ignore just how warm he was, and crossed the remaining distance. 

“Oi, asshole, open the door.” 

Oikawa grunted, but he reached back into his pocket and pulled his wallet out and blindly held his hand out. Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, but he shifted forward until Oikawa’s hand was in front of the scanner and it beeped. Oikawa reached forward, and Iwaizumi guided him until his hand caught the door handle, and together they worked to pull it open so Iwaizumi could slide in. “You’re fucking pathetic,” he grumbled. 

Oikawa smiled, lips soft against his skin, and Iwaizumi couldn’t help but shiver a little, steps stuttering as he started down the hall. 

Thankfully, Oikawa lived on the first floor, so they only had to work to open one more door before his actual door, which took a lot more finesse than the other ones, so Oikawa had to slither off his back and onto the ground, staring at the lock with hazy eyes before he stuck his key in and unlocked it. He nudged Oikawa in and turned, but his friend reached out, caught his elbow, and Iwaizumi half-turned back to him, head cocked. “Hajime,” Oikawa said softly, “Where are you going?” 

“I’m doing back to my dorm, idiot,” he grumbled. 

Oikawa’s bottom lip pushed out, eyes watering as his fingers curled into Iwaizumi's sleeve, tugging gently, but incessantly. “Come in.  _ Please.  _ Just for… I dunno, five minutes?” 

Iwaizumi swallowed hard. His eyes flicked to Oikawa's mouth, watched as his teeth worried his lip, making it swell. He could feel his head spinning, could feel warmth sinking in, mixing in with the flush of alcohol. “I-” 

Oikawa leaned forward, reeling Iwaizumi in as he brushed a clumsy kiss to his mouth. Iwaizumi's heart stuttered, eyes flying wide as he froze. His lips were soft, smelled of the vodka and his chapstick and something sweet he couldn't quite place, wasn't sure if he wanted to. But it was  _ warm, soft,  _ left his head spinning as his hands fluttered up, unsure whether to push or pull, his heart lodged somewhere in his throat. Oikawa smiled loosely, grinning against his lips. “Iwa-chan smells nice,” he sang softly. 

_ Oh fuck it.  _

He shoved the second thoughts from his mind and leaned in, chasing after those sweet lips, after muted giggles, after the man of his dreams. Oikawa inhaled sharply, but he grinned a moment later and eagerly tipped his head to the side, one hand going tight on Iwaizumi's bicep as the other curled into his hair as he let his mouth fall open.  _ Oh, God.  _

Iwaizumi threw the last of his caution to the wind and thrust his tongue in, licking along Oikawa's soft lips, tracing along the length of his tongue and across his teeth, tasting all the sweet vodka and punch Oikawa had drunk earlier. His hands slipped up, sliding across sharp hips to curl one against his spine, fingers falling between the bumps of the vertebrae, as the other roamed down, cupped Oikawa's ass and  _ squeezed.  _ A quiet moan broke through the silence, a shudder rippling through Oikawa as he bucked back into Iwaizumi's grip, mouth falling slack. 

They fell apart, gasping as Oikawa blinked at him, eyes dazed, cheeks flushed. His pink tongue poked out, teasing as it traced a path across his lips and he closer the distance their mouths a hair apart. His hand slipped down, caught the one Iwaizumi had settled on his spine, and he guided it forward to the cramped space between them. Straight to the growing bulge in his jeans. “Take responsibility,” Oikawa breathed. 

Iwaizumi shoved their mouths together, teeth clicking painfully, noses bumping, and he grunted, but he pushed Oikawa back, fully palming his ass as he walked Oikawa into his room. He had sense enough to quietly close and lock it as he sent a quick prayer of thanks that Oikawa's roommate had dropped out halfway through the semester, leaving the room empty, dark except for the lamp in the corner. 

It was a flurry of motion, lips never parting for more than a second if they could avoid it, peeling shirts off, kicking shoes away aimlessly, peeling their way out of jeans and boxers as they stumbled their way back to the bed, bodies electric, heat filling the non-existent space between their bodies. He slipped a hand between them and took hold of Oikawa's cock, and his friend hitched beneath him, breaking away with a loud moan that reverberated through the room as he quivered. Iwaizumi grinned, feral, and swept his thumb along the slit, watching with lidded eyes and parted lips, ravenously drinking in the sight beneath him. Oikawa thrashed as his hand slipped down, slowly pumping him in a tight fist, his fingers curling into the sheets as his hips rocked up, desperate for more. 

Iwaizumi laughed, breathless.  _ I can't believe this. I shouldn't be doing this.  _ But everything was looser, freer, warmer, and he couldn't fight it as he leaned in, slotted their mouths together again. 

He nipped at Oikawa's lips, smirking at the soft moan that slipped out as he thrust his tongue in, eager to learn, to memorize. His hand twisted on Oikawa's cock, and hands shot to his hair, curled in and tugged  _ hard _ as Oikawa arched off the bed, twisting away once more to bury the side of his face into the bed, lips hanging open as he gasped, eyes clenched shut. “F-Fuck, so  _ good,  _ Iwa-chan, I-” 

Iwaizumi pressed close and bit Oikawa’s neck, teeth sinking in as he worked his jaw, sucking hard, tongue flicking across skin that tasted like soap and sweat, delicious - almost as much as the lewd sound that rumbled out of Oikawa as he tugged harder on Iwaizumi’s hair, desperate, pleading, as his hips canted up even higher. “I-Iwa- stop, I- lube, p-please, it-it's- desk-”

Iwaizumi pumped his cock once more before he leaned over, jerked the desk drawer open, and thrust his hand in. There was a bottle of lube near the front, and he swept it up, flicked it open, poured a good amount onto his fingers as he leaned back, blinking lazily at Oikawa as he rubbed his fingers together. Oikawa’s eyes were screwed shut, cheeks flushed bright red, his fingers trembling as he clutched the sheets. Iwaizumi held there, patient, until dazed brown eyes opened, not quite focused. 

“Iwa-chan…?” 

Iwaizumi smiled as he leaned close, lips ghosting across Oikawa’s as his fingers slid down, traced Oikawa’s entrance. “Hajime. Call me Hajime.” 

Oikawa grinned.  _ “Hajime.”  _ Oikawa, the bastard, purred his name, low and sultry, and Iwaizumi’s throat worked, brain short-circuiting as heat filled his cheeks. 

_ I’m never going to hear that without getting an erection again.  _ Iwaizumi bit his cheek, leaned in close, and bit harshly at Oikawa’s collarbone, hiding his face as he worked one finger in. 

His friend sighed softly, relieved, and he rocked down onto Iwaizumi’s hand, taking him to the base of his finger in one smooth roll of his hips. “So good,” he whispered, rolling his hips against the cradle of Iwaizumi’s palm. He sucked harder on that sharp collarbone, moved along as he started to thrust his finger, curling it along Oikawa’s hot, slick walls, seeking, learning, his eyes glued to Oikawa’s face. His eyes were lidded, dark and hazy with alcohol and lust, cheeks filled with scarlet. His hands worried the sheets beside him, clenching and unfurling as his chest rose, urging Iwaizumi to come back in and bite and suck a path along his pale skin. 

Mouth dry, head spinning, he obliged, dragging his teeth across Oikawa’s chest, down to a nipple, and he grinned as Oikawa whimpered, delighted at the way he thrashed as Iwaizumi nipped at the bud, finger plunging in deep, a second already working its way in. A shuddering breath rippled out, Oikawa's chest hitching as he twisted, hips slamming down against Iwaizumi's hand.  _ “So good,”  _ he purred, eyes cracking open as his tongue worked swollen lips. “Haji- _ me _ !” 

Iwaizumi smirked, fingers stilling as he pulled back, eyes heavy on Oikawa. “There?” 

Oikawa's mouth flapped, only a warbling moan leaving as Iwaizumi curled his fingers and leaned back in, nipping a trail of red down to Oikawa's waist. He lapped at Oikawa's bellybutton, biting the soft skin as he scissored his fingers, curling them against Oikawa’s prostate as his friend rolled his body up, panting, gasping out a broken litany of Iwaizumi’s name. It left him grinning, breathing hard, heat spinning through his veins and leaving him dizzy as he thrust his fingers in, quick and relentless, leaving Oikawa trembling, sobbing for more. He teased Oikawa’s entrance with a third finger, circling the puckered skin, eyes frozen on Oikawa’s face. His cheeks were flushed, spots marring his neck and chest, forming a trail down to his waist. His lips parted, teeth coming out to sink into his bottom lip as he rolled his hips down. “H-Hajime, please, I-” 

Iwaizumi eased the finger in, sliding it past the tight ring of muscles, pushing until Oikawa whimpered, hips canting away. He stilled, thumb rising up to sweep across the back of his balls, tongue flicking out to lap at Oikawa’s stomach, pressing kisses to the sweaty, damp skin. “You okay?” 

Oikawa’s stomach unclenched, body slowly relaxing as he let out a shuddering breath, nodding. “Yeah. Jus’...” He shook his head, eyes cracking open, dazed, but eager. “Gimme more.” 

Iwaizumi smiled and pushed his finger in a little slower, easing it in, curling his others against Oikawa’s prostate until soft moans began to spill out once more. By the time Oikawa’s hips had begun to rock down again, Iwaizumi had all three fingers seated deep inside him, holding still as he grinned, fixated on Oikawa’s face. 

Oikawa, as a general rule of thumb, was  _ beautiful.  _ Painfully, breathtakingly, eternally beautiful, always. When he cried, leaving his face flushed and blotchy, eyes bloodshot and hair all messy. When he laughed, eyes crinkling, lips curling, a hand rising to hide it because he was shy, insecure, and Iwaizumi hated it because his smile was  _ gorgeous.  _ When he was focused, intense, eyes narrowed with the heat of the moment, totally absorbed by his little pre-serve ritual, by his analysis of the other team. And, now, when he was trembling, flushed a dozen different shades of red from ears to neck, lips swollen, drool coating his cheek, hair tousled and messy and far from the perfection he’d worked it into just a few hours before, and on the edge of an orgasm, he was positively ethereal. 

Iwaizumi snarled, sank his teeth into Oikawa’s hipbone as he thrust his fingers in, curling them across Oikawa’s prostate and sucking hard on his skin. 

Oikawa sobbed out a trembling  _ “Hajime!”,  _ barely coherent, and Iwaizumi growled, teeth scraping across Oikawa’s stomach, down to his thighs, sucking harsh hickies into his quivering inner thighs as his fingers thrust in, no mercy, holding back nothing. Fingers shot down, curled into his hair and  _ tugged,  _ Oikawa babbling, whimpering, moaning as he rammed his hips back down into Iwaizumi’s hand, meeting him with every thrust, skin slapping together, as he jerked on his hair, choking on words. 

_ “Ha-Ha-Hajime,  _ I-I-  _ stop,  _ I’m-” 

_ “No,”  _ he bit out as he turned his head to Oikawa’s other thigh and sank his teeth in, fingers curling, dark hunger swelling up, suffocating as his eyes closed as he sucked down Oikawa’s scent, drowned himself in the cries that filled the room. Oikawa  _ sobbed,  _ body thrashing as he rocking down, hips stuttering, back bowing up. 

Iwaizumi pulled back, fingers curling, sinking in, stroking his insides as Oikawa spasmed, cock jumping as he came, face twisted to the side, buried into his pillow, one arm draped over his face as he choked on a garbled cry of Iwaizumi’s name. He smirked, feral, and continued, watching as Oikawa trembling, whimpering. “H-Hajime, too much, it’s-” 

He hummed, pleased, and pulled his fingers out, squelching, and Oikawa shuddered, whimpering a little. Iwaizumi leaned in, trailed his fingers across Oikawa’s hips until those deep brown eyes cracked open, hazy, fixed on him. “Haji…?” 

Iwaizumi held his gaze as he leaned in, fingers sweeping across Oikawa’s hitching torso, trailing through the streaks of cum until it coated his fingers. Oikawa’s eyes widened, glued to Iwaizumi as he raised his hand, holding his friend’s gaze as his tongue darted out, lapped at the cum that covered his hand. 

Oikawa’s breath caught, the hand still in Iwaizumi’s hair tightening as he licked his lips. Iwaizumi carried on, grinning as he dragged his tongue along his palm, making sure he got every little bit before he leaned in, pressed his lips to Oikawa’s stomach and started to lap at that too, catching any and all traces as Oikawa moaned quietly, eyes clenching shut as his body quivered, unsure where to push. “H-Hajime…” 

He leaned up, ghosting his lips along Oikawa’s chest, teeth lightly scraping a trail up to his jaw, where he nudged Oikawa’s head up to nuzzle his neck. “Can I fuck you?” he rasped, tilting his head up to nibble along Oikawa’s throat. 

Like that, pressed close, he could feel the jump in his friend’s pulse, the stutter in his breathing, could hear the quiet sounds smothered in the back of his throat. “Hajime…” Oikawa whispered, throat working beneath Iwaizumi’s tongue.  _ “Please.”  _

He grinned.

* * *

 

Iwaizumi rolled over with a grunt at the cold air of the room, seeking out the source of warmth so close. He shoved close, hands skimming along ripples of muscle and bone as he pressed closer, toes sliding along hairy legs down to large feet, toes flexing underneath his. He hummed, butted his head closer to the warmth, seeking, sniffing, fingers curling along a spine. Whoever it was smelled  _ good,  _ like coconut and sex, like sugar and-  _ home.  _

Iwaizumi’s eyes snapped open. Strands of brown filled his vision, fluffy, wild,  _ familiar. No. No, no, no, no.  _ He eased himself back, heart tripping to a new, frantic beat, hands trembling as he stared at the face before him. 

_ Oh God, no.  _

Oikawa lay beside him, curled up on his side, both arms tucked into his chest and looking utterly blissed out with a trail of dark hickies and fainter red spots marring his jaw and neck, his chest, down to where the sheets barely covered his sharp hips. Iwaizumi could feel the sting of claw marks on his back, the ache of used muscles and the pleasant, lingering feelings, creeping in like the memories from the night before, hazy with alcohol. Pressing Oikawa into the bed. Fingering him until he came. Fucking him hard, going twice before they collapsed onto one another, spent. Remnants of their night lingered in the clothes scattered around the room, the covers kicked to the end of the bed, the tied condoms that had been carelessly dropped to the floor, and the open bottle of lube that lay on its side on the desk. 

Iwaizumi pressed a hand to his mouth, stomach heaving as he rocked away, shaking his head, eyes clenched shut.  _ I fucked him. I fucked Oikawa. Oh God, he’s going to hate me. He’s going to hate me so much, I’m so fucking stupid, so stupid! Why? Why the fuck did I do this?  _

He half-fell, half-slid off the bed, staggering around the room and snatching up his clothes, wrestling them on as quickly as he could. There was a soft moan and he whipped around, but Oikawa merely rolled over, patting at the bed before he curled in tighter on himself, squeezing a pillow to his chest with a sleepy smile. 

Iwaizumi’s stomach heaved. 

He shoved his things into his pockets, everything spinning. He managed to close the door quietly, managed to make it outside before he staggered off to the side and threw up, body shaking, bile and half-digested alcohol burning its way up his throat. He gagged, threw up again, and spent far too long dry-heaving into the leaves before he stumbled to his feet, swaying, unsteady. 

The walk back to his dorm was a blur, the world lurching and blurring around him, tears streaking his cheeks. His dormmate glanced up, but Iwaizumi shook his head and staggered into the bathroom, every part of him shaking. 

He stripped, flung himself into the shower, and cranked the water up, blistering water pouring over his skin as he shuddered, hunched in on himself, gasps punching out of his chest, leaving him with his forehead pressed to the floor, nails digging into his sides, images flashing through his head. Flashes of chocolate-brown eyes going lidded as they broke apart from kisses, then blowing wide when he hit the right spots in Oikawa, leaving him sobbing and clawing at the bed, at his back. Pulling back to watch skin bloom red, Oikawa hitching beneath him, toes curling as he rocked up for more bites. 

A sob bubbled out of him, left him smacking the floor of the shower as he hugged himself tighter. 

_ No. _

* * *

 

**From Tooru:** **  
** **heeeey iwa-chan ( ･ω･)ﾉ**

**To Tooru:** **  
** **What**

**From Tooru:** **  
** **SO RUDE (งಠ_ಠ)ง**

**To Tooru:** **  
** **Fine, what the fuck do you want**

**From Tooru:** **  
** **……**

**From Tooru:** **  
** **sooooo ;;;; i think i fucked someone last night 「(°ヘ°)**

**To Tooru:** **  
** **… think?**

**From Tooru:** **  
** **yeah! there’s condoms on the floor n i’m covered in hickeys**

**From Tooru:** **  
** **and;;; y’know**

**From Tooru:** **  
** **i got /that/ feel**

**From Tooru:** **  
** **but like… a good feel!**

**From Tooru:** **  
** **i’m just sad he didn’t leave a number or stay ｡゜(｀Д´)゜｡**

**From Tooru:** **  
** **hajime…?**

**To Tooru:** **  
** **Sorry, fell asleep. Congrats**


	3. Who Do You Love?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 3: Charms/ **Song-Inspired **  
> ****  
> SFW  
>  “Do you like him?”
> 
>  
> 
> **  
> **Iwaizumi gaped at Sugawara, eyes wide and hands limp in his lap as he slowly shook his head. “I… no? He’s my friend, and I miss him. It’s… natural to want to talk to him.”**  
>  **
> 
>  
> 
> **  
> **“I’ve never seen someone smile like that unless they’re in love."**  
>  **

_“Iwa-chan, it’s late there, you should go to bed.”_

Iwaizumi grunted and shoved his face into his pillow, hiding away from Oikawa’s sharp, inquisitive stare - one that could see far too much, everything except what he so desperately wanted him to see. Or maybe not. It was a tough choice there.

 _“Iwa-chan!”_ Oikawa cried.

Iwaizumi turned his head, cracking one green eye open to glare at his friend. “Fuck you.”

Oikawa gasped, scandalized, and turned his head away, lips twisted into a pout, nose crinkled. _“So mean!”_ “

Nah, jus’ tired.”

 _“Then go to bed,”_ Oikawa said, softer this time. _“You’ve got class tomorrow. It’s two in the morning there. You need your sleep.”_

He only deigned his friend with a grunt. The brunet rolled his eyes, but he smiled as he leaned in closer, chin propped up on his palm, face soft with warmth. He filled the screen mostly, but Iwaizumi could see the green of the campus behind him, the sunlight shining on the courtyard he lay in and the building behind him. Oikawa always went to the same place every time they Skyped after his last class on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, lounging in the sun in the quad when he could before Iwaizumi fell asleep on him, or he had to go off to practice, whichever came first. _You’re so far away._

Iwaizumi’s throat worked, abruptly uncomfortably thick, and he turned fully so he could look at Oikawa fully. “How’s America?”

 _“You keep asking me that,”_ Oikawa teased, smiling fondly as he shook his head. He settled down a second later, humming thoughtfully as his eyes slid past the screen to focus on something beyond. His fingers spun in front of the screen, fiddling together, tracing nails painted mint green with a little black alien head on each pinkie.

 _“Well… It’s interesting. My English is good, but sometimes I get lost in conversations, or I forget a word and have to explain it really awkwardly, but it’s already improving a lot. The classes are cool too - there’s such a wide variety here, and I’m really enjoying them. There’s some interesting people too. One guy invited me to a party, said he’d show me a good time-”_ Iwaizumi’s heart lurched, thumping a little too hard to be comfortable, and he bit his tongue as Oikawa turned his head back to him, grinning mischievously. _“Don’t worry, I turned him down, and he threw a fit. It was pathetic honestly, so I dodged a bullet there. And… well, it’s nice here. There’s good food, new things to do and see, but...”_

He shrugged, eyelids lowering as he sank down, smile fading away. _“It’s nice here, but you’re not here. I miss you.”_

Iwaizumi snorted, swallowing back warmth that so desperately tried to rise to his cheeks as he stuck his tongue out. “Shut it, Hangar-san.”

Oikawa whined and flopped his face into the grass, grumbling as he ripped pieces from the ground and tossed them at his phone screen. _“Go the fuck to sleep, you jackass,”_ Oikawa hissed into the grass.

Iwaizumi grinned. “Oikawa, I think you’ve become even more foul-mouthed since you went to America.” Oikawa merely raised his hand and flipped Iwaizumi off, face still buried in the grass. Iwaizumi chuckled and nestled further into his pillows with a sigh. “Fine, I’ll go to bed. Be careful at practice today, alright?”

Oikawa grumbled, but his head popped up a second later, another fond smile curling his lips as he leaned a little closer to the phone. _“Of course, Iwa-chan! Sleep well! Text me later!”_

“No.”

He cut the call before Oikawa’s cries could come and he shut his phone off, rolled onto his back, eyes fixing on the dark ceiling overhead. In the soft glow of the streetlights outside he could just barely see the posters that lay overhead, most of them from Oikawa, accumulated over the years from tournaments and trips to college games, and one of the Olympic and national teams. There were others there too. A Godzilla one, from the original movie. A Pacific Rim poster over by his door. One of Mothman, and another of various Japanese mythological creatures.

Beside him, hanging over his desk, was the corkboard, the pictures pinned to it too dark to see. But he could imagine them, so ingrained into his memory. Recollections of Oikawa’s smiles in a dozen different variations, his eyes crunched shut with joy or wide with exhilaration or drooping with exhaustion, but Oikawa all the same. _Phenomenal,_ regardless.

Iwaizumi curled in on himself, head shaking as he stared at his fingers, so empty, so uncertain. _How can I sleep when you’re not here?_

Oikawa was so far away, time zone upon time zone, kilometer after kilometer, an entire ocean and a continent away. _I just want to be with him._ Because, at the end of the day, he missed Oikawa desperately, craved him like he never had before. He’d told himself when Oikawa had come to him about going to school in America that he wouldn’t mind, that it would be okay.

That had been a lie.

Just like the lie he’d told when they were seven and he’d fallen, busted his lip and forehead open and had been bleeding everywhere, and Oikawa had been sobbing, scared that he was hurt badly, and he’d said it was okay, that he didn’t hurt, even though the world spun and he could barely talk with how hard he’d bit his tongue. Or the one when they were twelve and Oikawa had asked him if liked boys, if it was okay for _him_ to like boys, and Iwaizumi had scowled and turned away, heart in his throat, uncertainty clawing at him as he said no, he didn’t, that yes, it was okay. Or when he was fifteen and he’d found himself staring at Oikawa as they lay together, futons spread out on the floor of Oikawa’s bedroom, his friend sleeping soundly, hair an absolute mess, pillow wet with drool, his stupid, well-worn alien plush clutched to his chest, and he’d felt a crushing sense of _joy._ Overwhelming, undiluted, brought purely by the boy out cold beside him. He’d told himself they’d never be apart, that he’d hold onto that feeling forever.

Well. It had worked out well enough until university had come, until he’d gone to Tokyo and Oikawa had been given a chance to go to America, to fulfill his dreams, potentially get a head start on his path to nationals, to the Olympics. Iwaizumi’s chest went tight as he curled in on himself, clenching his eyes shut.

The truth was that, even after months of mental preparation and weeks of less contact, less talking, less seeing, less _Oikawa,_ he was still lost, scared, spinning around and around, desperate to find something other than the emptiness of his bed and days to focus on. Sure, Oikawa messaged him relentlessly, so he’d wake up to upwards of fifty messages of things that Oikawa had thought he’d want to know, wanted to see, wanted to hear - and he wasn’t wrong, Iwaizumi did, because, in the end, he desperately craved every detail of Oikawa that he could get, especially with so much distance between them.

But it wasn’t the same.

It wasn’t like being able to sit down with him, Oikawa slumped all over him and holding onto his hand, tracing idle patterns into his as he chattered away, or when they sat back to back so he could feel the rumble of Oikawa’s voice through him, or when they’d lay on his bed back home or in the grass outside of his house, talking in low voices, or simply lying together in silence, drifting in and out of consciousness.

_Come back soon, asshole._

* * *

 

“Iwaizumi, are you feeling okay?”

He pried his head up from his desk, blinking dully at Sugawara, who leaned in, brow furrowed and eyes fixated on him. Iwaizumi grunted, shrugged, and peeled himself from the desk, stretching slowly. Sugawara stared him down, gaze heavy, but Iwaizumi ignored it, casting a glance around the room. People were filtering out, chattering loudly as they fled the class. Iwaizumi grabbed his things off his desk, stuffed them into his bag, and rose.

Sugawara sighed, but he didn’t push it as they trekked outside, stepping into the courtyard where some students had thrown blankets onto the grass. Iwaizumi made to head to the library, but Sugawara grabbed his arm and, despite the size difference between them, he managed to turn Iwaizumi around, guiding him to the cafeteria. “Nope, we’re going to get food, we’re going to sit in the sun, not do jack shit for an hour at least, and you’re going to talk to me.”

Iwaizumi scowled, but he followed obediently. Thankfully, Sugawara didn’t go to the cafeteria itself, but to the downstairs area with the on-campus shops where they could buy a sandwich for a meal exchange. They were in and out within minutes, seated on grass, half in the shade. Sugawara settled down on his - _Semi’s_ \- jacket, unwrapping his sandwich as he jabbed Iwaizumi in the calf with a toe. “Alright, spill, why the hell are you sleeping through class? You never do that. And you look like you’re barely sleeping period.”

“I-”

Iwaizumi’s phone chimed and he twisted, snatched it from his backpack, unlocking it without looking, eyes fixed on the text notification. It was from Oikawa, of fucking course, and he rolled his eyes as he glanced it over.

**space-kawa:  
iwa-chan iwa-chan look!!! i got a super cute alien plushie ** **ᕙ** **།** **– ڡ –** **།** **ᕗ**

**space-kawa:  
[img]**

**space-kawa:  
i LOVE it djfdkjfdjfh**

**ballfourlyfe:  
you fucking nerd**

He set his phone aside and looked up - found Sugawara staring straight at him, head cocked to the side, eyes narrowed and curious. _“What?”_

Sugawara grinned, flickering his fingers at Iwaizumi - at where he’d set his phone. “Who was _that_? Oikawa?”

Iwaizumi scowled, twisting away from those prying eyes, his cheeks filling with heat as he he ripped the paper of his sandwich open. “And if it is? We’re friends, it’s normal to talk to each other.”

Sugawara grinned, food abandoned as he leaned closer, one slender eyebrow raised. “Yes, but it’s not normal to get so defensive or flustered when you’re caught talking with your _friend,_ you know?”

“I-”

“Do you like him?”

Iwaizumi gaped at Sugawara, eyes wide and hands limp in his lap as he slowly shook his head. “I… no? He’s my friend, and I miss him. It’s… natural to want to talk to him.”

“I’ve never seen someone smile like that unless they’re in love. I did it with Semi. Daichi did it with Michimiya. Yachi with Hinata. And you with Oikawa. It’s obvious.” Iwaizumi spluttered, grabbed his bag of chips, and chucked it at his friend, who caught it easily, tore it open, and plucked a chip out, crunching it between his teeth with a satisfied grin. “Thanks for the free food.”

“Fuck you.”

“When and where, baby?”

Iwaizumi flipped him off and savagely bit into his sandwich, glaring at his shoes. His phone chimed. His eyes snapped over to Sugawara, who smirked at him, an incarnate of smugness and evil. He bared his teeth at the young man before he snatched his phone up and glanced at it.

**space-kawa:  
oh iwa-chan!!! i got u something o(** **≧∇≦** **o)**

**space-kawa:  
but it’s for your birthday ** **☆** **～（ゝ。** **∂** **）**

**space-kawa:  
i like you’ll love it~**

**ballfourlyfe:  
of course**

**space-kawa:  
(** **๑** **´•** **₃** **•̀** **๑** **)**

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, wasn’t even surprised to find Sugawara staring at him, smiling faintly. “Just think about it,” he said softly, “Sometimes you’ll be surprised about the things you learn if you think on things for a while. You’ll see what I mean.”

“Oh, go get laid.”

“Actually, I plan on doing that tonight.”

Iwaizumi faked heaving into the grass as Sugawara cackled, head thrown back to the clear skies above, warmth on their skin.

* * *

 

Oikawa grinned as he wiggled closer to the screen, eyes bright. _“Iwa-chan, I missed you.”_

“We literally talked yesterday.”

_“I know, but it’s not the same when I can’t see your face, you know?”_

Iwaizumi reached forward and flipped his phone so that it was face down, hiding Oikawa, even as he shrieked in protest, piercing through the headphones. But Iwaizumi could only bury his face, chest going tight as he shook his head, biting his lip. _Shut up, shut up. You can’t say things like that._ Because, simply, things like that were, as Sugawara had so kindly put it, _‘not things friends would say’._ At least, it didn’t feel like it, not when it made him feel so weird, left his face so hot and his heart fluttering, uncertain. _What the actual fuck is going on?_ He ran his fingers through his hair, tracing the edge of his phone.

_“Iwa-chan? Hajime?”_

He flipped his phone back up, light filling his room once more as he blinked through the darkness. “Yeah?”

 _“I really do miss you.”_ Oikawa’s lips pursed in a pout, eyes skipping away as he sighed and settled further into the grass. _“America is lonely without you.”_

“I thought you’d made friends.” _“Yeah, but they’re not you.”_ Iwaizumi bit his tongue as his chest went tight, so much that he couldn’t quite breathe as he nodded, an echo of agreement. “Hey…” he croaked, “I’m… I’ve got a test in the morning. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

Oikawa’s eyes softened, disappointment flashing across his face for a split second before his head cocked to the side and he smiled warmly. _“Of course. Good luck, Iwa-chan. I’ll make sure to send you lots of pictures!”_

“When don’t you?”

Oikawa grinned.

“Good night.”

_“Good afternoon!”_

He couldn’t end the call quick enough, couldn’t bury his face in the pillows fast enough, trembling as he curled in on himself, thoughts crashing in.

_“Just think about it.”_

_“Do you like him?”_

_Of course_ he liked Oikawa - they’d known each other all their lives, had gone to all the same schools together, had done all the same things together until they’d been split apart for classes by their tests. But even then, they were constantly in one another’s lives, spinning around each other, crashing and colliding, dancing around things that hurt them before, like a supernova, it all exploded out and caught them, but they’d always contain it, form new stars with what remained.

He knew everything about Oikawa. That his favorite food was beef curry, a little on the spicy side, and that he loved milk bread more than anything else. That his favorite drink to have at practice was orange Gatorade after he’d had a few waters and needed a change in taste, a refreshment of electrolytes and sugars. He knew that he was terrified of being alone, of not being enough, but also that Oikawa was scared shitless of centipedes after he’d woken up and found not one, not two, but _ten_ in his bed from a prank Hanamaki and Matsukawa had played on him at a training camp in their first year.

He knew that Oikawa slept with one pillow beneath his knee and socks on - but he always kicked the socks off in the middle of the night, resulting in far too many pairs ending up crammed between the footboard and the mattress, which were only found when they stripped their beds. Oikawa loved to go lay in the park and read on warm days, and his English was exceptional, and that he was just as fluent in French and Korean, just because he’d wanted to learn so he could watch Korean dramas and because his sister had adopted a little French girl four years before.

He knew Oikawa inside and out - just like Oikawa knew him backwards and forwards, no part of themselves left unknown, except maybe what they hid so well that even they themselves didn’t know.

Oikawa hadn’t realized that he was so depressed in their last year of junior high, hadn’t noticed how bad things had gotten. After the loss to Karasuno, Iwaizumi hadn’t even realized he was crying until Oikawa had slapped his back, had jarred him back to the present. But, sometimes, there had been things neither of them had seen. Distance that had been pointed out by Matsukawa when Oikawa had gotten a new girlfriend in their last year. A revitalization of their relationship when she was gone. How they seemed like a married couple according to Hanamaki and Yahaba. How- _how his heart clenched every time someone Oikawa started to date someone. The sheer amount of relief when they didn’t stay._

Most of the girls had been turned off by Oikawa’s one-track mind for volleyball. Guys and girls alike had been jealous of how close and Oikawa were, how Oikawa sprawled all over him, tangling their bodies together, how he was the first one Oikawa came to, how-

Iwaizumi buried his face into his hands, breathing ragged, heart pounding hard, far too hard, hands trembling as he shrank in on himself. _No. No, this can’t be happening._

It couldn’t be happening because they were _friends,_ had been since they were little, since before they could even understand the concept of friends. It couldn’t be happening because Oikawa was in America, so painfully far away, so much that he already couldn’t stand it. It couldn’t be happening because _Oikawa wouldn’t return his love._ Not because he didn’t like guys - they’d both crossed that hurdle long ago, understanding and accepting who they were, that maybe, just maybe, it was okay to be different - but because Iwaizumi, as a rule of thumb, was undesirable.

Iwaizumi sucked down a shuddering breath, hands trembling as he peeked between fingers to stare blankly at a wall drenched in black. _Of all the things to realize, it had to be this. It had to be now._ Now, when Oikawa was eons away. When he couldn’t find the words, the strength to admit just how much he missed Oikawa, how much that stupid asshole meant to him. How, without Oikawa, breathing had suddenly become a chore, school had become dull, days were empty without those texts disrupting it.

He rolled onto his back, eyes falling shut, heart stuttering. _I can’t let this happen. I can’t let this stay. This has to go away, it has to die._ Oikawa wouldn’t love him, couldn’t love him, because he wasn’t good enough. Not smart enough, not strong enough, not kind enough - simply _not enough._

He draped an arm over his face, a wobbling smile curling his lips, eyes burning as he sagged into the shitty mattress. “Fuck you, Sugawara,” he whispered into the dark.

But it wasn’t Sugawara’s fault that he’d fallen for his best friend. That was on him. His fault for falling head over heels for someone with beautiful, deep brown eyes flecked with gold and green that would dance with emotions, the first thing to give him away after his hands, always so strong and steady until he was close to breaking or scared, and then they would find Iwaizumi, trembling, soft, his pain echoing in every touch. His fault for falling for that sweet, melodic laugh, the lilt of his voice, the warmth he brought with every breathtaking smile that left him dizzy, spinning in a daze of _Oikawa._

“I… I miss you.”

* * *

 

**space-kawa:  
iwa-chan!!!! skype??**

**space-kawa:  
iwa-chan???**

**space-kawa:  
did you actually go to sleep already??**

**space-kawa:  
okayyyy, message me tomorrow, k?**

* * *

 

Iwaizumi ran his fingers through his hair, eyes glued to the clock. Oikawa was due to get off class in a minute, and he knew that as soon as he did- A familiar jumble of notes filled the room and he jolted upright in his bed before he curled in, thumb hovering over the green button. He hesitated. _Stupid, stop. You haven’t Skyped in a week._ Anymore, and Oikawa would probably hop on the first plane back to Japan to kick his ass, and he wasn’t particularly interested in that.

And he missed Oikawa, more than he cared to admit. Missed him like he’d miss the sun warming his back, the taste of kimochi on hot summer afternoons, the feel of a ball beneath his hand that came from Oikawa. Missed him so much that he could feel an ache in his chest, a permanent fixture, and it left him reeling, day in and day out. Because, ever since that revelation, things had been so much worse, and Sugawara had only offered him a sad smile and a hug. There wasn’t much more he could’ve done, not when Oikawa consumed his thoughts.

He was there at every turn, in the observatory Iwaizumi went to with Semi, Suga, and Terushima, in the milk bread that they served at the caf one day, even if it wasn’t as good as the stuff from the place at home, Nana’s Bakery, and in the movie he went and saw with some classmates, a pretty weird film about aliens that Oikawa would have been head over heels for. But also in other things too. He was inescapable. He ached for Oikawa’s sets, longed for the feel of their hands sliding together, the sensation of Oikawa pressed against him, warmth seeping into his body as they sagged into one another after a long day.

_I miss you._

Enough that the last week had been pure agony, had left him tossing and turning and pacing his room all hours of the morning. He’d bombed a quiz, thankfully a minor portion of his quiz, and Sugawara had taken one look at his paper and crinkled his nose before he started to salvage what little of it he could. It had been awful, painful - and it had been telling, how deep Iwaizumi was in it all.

Iwaizumi sucked down a breath.

Pressed accept.

The screen loaded after a second and Oikawa appeared, screen gradually clearing, sharpening. He looked - _stressed._ His hair had been tugged out of his usual perfect styling despite it still being the middle of the day, not even exam time yet. He looked tired too, bags having formed beneath his eyes since last time. And yet, despite that, his eyes lit up, a radiant smile cropping up as he lunged closer. _“Iwa-chan! About time you answered!”_

“Shut up,” he grumbled, “I had to get something.”

Oikawa laughed, shaking his head, and Iwaizumi felt all the oxygen in his lungs rush out, eyes wide as he stared. _I missed it._ Longed for the sweet melody of his laugh in that too-long week he’d spent away under the guise of school and volleyball, longed for that saccharine smile and those brown doe eyes that snared him, a web he couldn’t escape - _didn’t want to escape._ He felt a smile creeping, unbidden, and he shook his head, even as his hands clenched. “Asshole.”

_“But you love me!”_

“I… guess.”

Oikawa’s eyes narrowed and his lips pursed in a pout, but he didn’t press it as he leaned against a tree, grinning. _“Okay, well, guess who’s got good news!”_

Iwaizumi blinked. “What?”

_“I’m coming home for Christmas! We get a whole month off, so I’m flying in as soon as I can!”_

Iwaizumi nearly dropped his phone, eyes shooting wide. “When’s that?”

_“Well-”_

Oikawa started to ramble, eyes bright, grinning as he waved his hands, practically wiggling with excitement, so delighted about it all. Dates rattled off his tongue, plans already half-formed spilling into the space between them, possibilities and potentials for more, so much more. Iwaizumi felt his stomach flip. It was still months away, Christmas break - _but. But Oikawa is coming home._ He swallowed hard, smiled, heart thrumming. “That’s awesome,” he said when Oikawa took a second to breathe.

Oikawa beamed. _“I know! I haven’t seen you in so long and, fuck, Iwa-chan, I just-”_ Oikawa shook his head, sniffling a little, even as he smiled. _“I can’t wait.”_

“Me too.” _I need to tell him._ Tell Oikawa because, if he didn’t, it would tear him up, leave him throbbing with the need to tell, with the pain of saying nothing.

* * *

 

Iwaizumi hopped from one foot to the other, eyes trained on the doors, one hand on his phone, energy thrumming through his body as he tried to contain himself. It was impossible at best, too much excitement, too much _everything._ He couldn’t feel the cold, could barely feel anything but desperation, slick and hot in his belly. _Where is he? Where the fuck is he?_ His plane had landed, that much he knew. Oikawa had shot him a text, chirping about going to find his luggage. That had been a whole ten minutes ago - _ten minutes._

A hand settled onto his shoulder, Sugawara grinning at him from behind his scarf. “Calm down, Iwaizumi. He’ll be here in a minute.”

Iwaizumi grunted and snapped his head back to the door. A minute was too long after four months - _four measly months_ that had felt like an eternity. Because Oikawa was _home._ Oikawa was back, and-

The doors slid open, a familiar head of artfully styled brown hair appearing, an equally familiar brilliant green scarf around his neck. Iwaizumi didn’t feel his feet move, didn’t hear Sugawara say anything. His eyes were only on Oikawa, devouring everything he could as he rushed forward. Oikawa’s eyes snapped wide, lips curling into a smile as he dropped his suitcase and duffle bag, arms flying out.

_“Iwa-chan!”_

They slammed into one another, Oikawa’s sweet, familiar laughter filling the air as Iwaizumi buried his face into Oikawa’s neck, eyes burning, chest going tight, _so fucking tight,_ as his hands fisted into Oikawa’s jacket, clutching him desperately, frantically, like if he let him go he would disappear forever. Oikawa clutched at him too, hands winding into his jacket, face rubbing into Iwaizumi’s neck as he breathed in deep. “You smell good,” he whispered, “New body wash?”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi mumbled, “The stuff you sent me.” He could feel Oikawa’s lips twitch up into a smile, pleased, and he shivered, unable to stop it. “You smell like shit.” That was a lie - Oikawa smelled perfect, like strawberries and his soft, sweet-smelling cologne, even with the stink of plane hanging on him. Oikawa huffed, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he pressed closer, hugged Iwaizumi tighter, and Iwaizumi felt his heart skip a beat, maybe six. _I need to tell him._

His hands curled over Oikawa’s shoulders, nudged him back, and Oikawa blinked at him, confused, brown eyes wide.

“Iwa-chan?”

“Oikawa…” His voice was too weak, trembling too much, and he swallowed hard, coughed, managed a tiny smile. “Tooru… I… did a lot of thinking while you were gone. Too much. And I guess I realized some things I should have seen a lot sooner. I... fuck, I love you, okay, and I-”

A body slammed back into him, fingers curling into his hair as Oikawa shoved his face into Iwaizumi’s neck for a second, then jerked back, hands sliding in to cradle his face, warm, jarring, and Iwaizumi’s eyes widened. There were tears in his eyes, a breathtaking smile stealing across his lips, flashing that crooked canine, the chipped front tooth. “Just kiss me already.”

Iwaizumi’s chest hitched, hands limp on Oikawa’s shoulders. They tightened a moment later. One dropped, curled around Oikawa’s hip, the other rising to fist into that soft, fluffy brown hair. “Gladly,” he whispered as he leaned up, crossing that damnable distance as Oikawa giggled and met him halfway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by "Who Do You Love" by Marianas Trench


	4. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 4: **Holidays** /Paranoia  
> SFW; TW for references to homophobia, slurs
> 
> “I’m sorry,” he breathed into the space beneath Hajime’s ear.
> 
> He shrugged, listless, and shook his head. “Nothing you should apologize for.”

Tooru was seated on the kitchen floor, a wine bottle between his legs, wrestling with the cork when Hajime walked in, bags of groceries in his hands, a tense furrow to his brow. Tooru was up in an instant, wine discarded on the floor as he grabbed some of the bags from his husband and pressed a lingering kiss to his cheeks. Hajime twitched, grunted faintly, and shifted past, unresponsive as he set the bags on the counter.

Tooru hesitated, eyes flitting across Hajime’s form, before he bit his tongue, ducked his head, and set the bags down. Hajime had already started to pull the groceries out, but instead of helping, Tooru leaned in from behind, arms snaking around his waist to curl over his stomach, cheek finding its way to Hajime’s shoulder. “Are you okay?” Hajime didn’t respond, but he could feel the tightness in his shoulders, the faint quiver that ran through his body, unmistakable with the proximity of their bodies. “Hajime…”

“Sorry,” he whispered, “I just… rough time, you know?”

“Did you call them?” A shuddering breath rattled in. Tooru winced, tugged Hajime a little closer, held him even tighter as he turned his head, lips skimming across the tendons and muscles of his neck to pepper the cool skin with kisses. “I’m sorry,” he breathed into the space beneath Hajime’s ear.

He shrugged, listless, and shook his head. “Nothing you should apologize for.”

“Still,” he murmured, “I know it’s hard. Even now.”

It had been worse then, when Hajime’s parents had first kicked him out, unable to accept the fact that Hajime was different, that Hajime couldn’t love a woman and never would, couldn’t even fake it. He’d tried - the string of girlfriends in high school that had spilled into college had been painful for the both of them, even more so with the heavy words from their first breakup. _“I love you, but I shouldn’t, and I need to… pretend to be normal.”_

It had taken a long time to get to where they stood. Even then, the holidays were hard. Most looked forward to the dusting of sugary snow on the ground and trees, to the scent of log fires and batches of homemade cookies by the dozens, to the rich dinner, a rarity. To setting up the tree in the corner of the living room and wrapping gifts with merry papers that were signs of joy, of excitement, a promise for something given out of love. They still tried though.

Tooru pressed another soft kiss to Hajime’s cheek, then leaned forward until their jaws brushed, until he could feel the faint twitches in Hajime’s face. “I’m here. Takahiro and Issei, they’ll be here too. You’re not alone. Promise.”

Hajime sniffed quietly and turned, arms blindly seeking, eyes already screwed up, and Tooru reeled him in, one hand settling into his coarse hair, rubbing gently at his scalp as Hajime shuddered, tears slipping out, undeniable. His fingers traced wild paths down Hajime’s back, following the curves and ridges of his spine, the contours of his muscles and bones, finding a path, senseless. It left Hajime going weak, slumping heavily into him, the hands tangle in his shirt slowly going loose as he shook his head. “Sorry… ‘S not how I wanted to start this dinner.”

“It’s okay. Promise.” Hajime snorted, but when he pulled back he was no longer crying, though the tracks and redness remained. Tooru cupped his jaw, smiling softly as he thumbed a ruddy cheek. “Iwa-chan, how come you’re such a pretty crier?”

“Hey,” he said weakly, “I’m an _Oikawa-chan_ now, asshole.”

“Maybe,” he hummed, “But you’ll always be my Iwa-chan. My sweet, handsome Hajime. The most beautiful man in the world.” Hajime managed a faint smile, leaned up, and Tooru met him halfway, ghosting their lips together before they closed in for a firmer one, breaths shuddering out, mixing in the air between them, warming it. Tooru smiled. Kissed Hajime again, and then once more for good measure before he pulled back. “Go ahead and do what you need to. I’ll be out here if you need me, okay?”

Hajime nodded, but he didn’t pull away. His fingers curled into the bottom of Tooru’s shirt, tugging gently as he glanced away, working his tongue in his mouth. Tooru waited, patient, and watched as Hajime slowly found his way to his words, finally looking up with a quiet sound. “Can we have tofu tonight too? And… your Mom’s chocolate cake? I… got all the ingredients.”

Tooru beamed, chased after Hajime with quick kisses to the corners of his mouth. “Of course we can. I’ll make those in a bit, and you can help me.”

“Okay.”

Hajime’s fingers loosened, disappeared, and he watched as Hajime turned, disappeared back into their bedroom, and Tooru watched the empty space for a long moment before he sighed, turned, raked his fingers through his hair. _Those fuckers._ Sometimes, on a rare occasion, he found it hard to be angry at the Iwaizumis. They had practically raised him alongside Hajime, had been there for everything - for both their first steps. Their first words and sentences. The first falls off bikes. The first dabbling in sports as they learned together how to kick a ball around, how to dribble a basketball, how to throw a baseball, and, finally, how to set and spike volleyballs. There for the first day of preschool, then first grade, for junior high, and, finally, for high school.

And then, in college, that illusion had crumbled apart. Truthfully, the cracks had been there the whole time, bits and pieces slowly chipping away, decayed by cruel, casual comments that left both he and Hajime flinching, biting their tongues, until, finally, it had all become too much. But, other times, it was easy to hate that veritable second set of parents. _How much pain have they caused Hajime? How long until it eases?_ It certainly hadn’t in the last eight years. It might not until their dying days. _I’ll still be there for him, regardless._

He drew in another breath, shook his head, and started to pull the groceries out as the shower started up. He managed a smile. There were some comfort foods in there - Hajime loved to eat oranges when he felt down, but also some other sweet things. A tub of ice cream, mint chocolate chip. A small package of cookies, peanut butter and chocolate chunks jutting out. A bar of orange-flavored chocolate. Tooru set those aside, put the ice cream away, and tackled the rest.

By the time Hajime had emerged he had everything needed for the cake on one side of the counter, the tofu set on the other side, ready to be cooked. Various pots bubbled on the stove, slowly cooking their dinner, leaving rich scents filling the air. Tooru hummed, skimmed a chaste kiss across Hajime’s forehead, and nudged him aside a little so they could work on the cake together. Hands bumped. Arms brushed. Shoulders - well, as close as they could get to that anyways - settled together. They stood there, hip to hip, Tooru humming lightly as they passed each other ingredients, Tooru rattling off the recipe whenever Hajime cast him a questioning look.

They finished preparing it by the time a knock came, and Tooru pecked Hajime once more before he spun away, darted to the door, and threw it open with a grin. Takahiro and Issei beamed back, both of them with a tote full of presents over their shoulders, a few dishes in their hands as well. “Enough for an army,” Takahiro laughed.

Tooru groaned. “We’re going to be eating leftovers for days.” But he laughed anyways, let them in, food and all, and watched as they set their dishes on the table, then went over and wrapped Hajime in a hug he halfway returned. Issei cast a glanced back to him, one thick brow raised. Tooru met that stare with a slight nod, hands tight by his side. Issei’s lips pursed. He sidled up beside Hajime, the scowl melting away a second later as he grabbed the tofu and started it, chattering away as Takahiro drifted over to where Tooru stood. They pressed close, Takahiro’s lips almost in his ear. “Again?”

“Every year,” Tooru whispered back. “I _hate_ them.” He glanced over, smiling sadly as Takahiro stared at Hajime, helpless. He and Issei were in the same boat, all of them ostracized by the Iwaizumi’s, cast away by the people who had once promised to love them forever, no matter what. _But I guess being a_ fag _doesn’t count. That’s the one thing they’ll never forgive._ They’d given the four sips of alcohol, hadn’t told their parents when they’d found the group sprawled out in Hajime’s room, a little too stoned to function. Hadn’t even been that angry when Hajime had gotten into a fistfight when someone had been harassing a girl. But being _gay-_

Tooru shook his head, twisted, and hugged Takahiro, clinging to him, breathing in the scent of coffee ingrained into him from his job. “Thanks for coming,” he breathed.

“Of fucking course,” Takahiro drawled back, hugging Tooru tight.

“God guys,” Issei sang with a teasing grin, “That’s pretty gay.”

“Pretty sure all parties here are very much _queer_ ,” Takahiro shot back, waggling his eyebrows as they grinned at one another.

Hajime rolled his eyes and smacked Issei with the back of a spoon. “Focus, you dildo.”

“Ooo, he’s calling you _fake_ ,” Takahiro crowed. Issei flipped him off before he turned back to the stove, refocusing on the pots and pans they had going. Takahiro leaned into Tooru, chin settling on his shoulder as they watched their partners, hearts just a little too heavy for how the season of festivity.

They had put up a tiny tree this year at least, an improvement from the years before, and he’d convinced Hajime to wear a tacky, oversized Christmas sweater with him for a picture. _Slow steps._

He smiled, pried himself away from Takahiro’s clingy grasp, and scooped up the wine bottle to wrestle with it once more, Takahiro laughing in his ear as Issei and Hajime leaned into one another, the tension slowly seeping out of those broad shoulders as the scent of a home-cooked meal filled the apartment. Tooru smiled.


	5. Tooru

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 5: **Freeday** /Miscommunication  
> SFW
> 
> The man - creature? - smiled, sharp canines flashing as he crouched down to Hajime’s level, head slowly cocking to the side. “Don’t you know it’s dangerous to be in these woods?”
> 
> Hajime blinked, slowly nodded his head.

Hajime blinked at the trees all around him. They were different than the ones by his home, all sorts of oranges and reds instead. The bark was dark too, much darker than the trees he’d just been beside. But, when he looked back, he couldn’t see those trees, green and light, full of animals. Just more of the same autumn-like forest. He narrowed his eyes, but he turned forward once more. _Maybe I got distracted._

He continued to move, cautiously picking his way through the underbrush, eyes flickering between the forest floor and the world around him. It was still. He could hear bird song, but it sounded different, a little deeper, a little sparser. He couldn’t see the birds though, and he couldn’t see any squirrels or other wild animals stirring the forest. “Where am I?” he mumbled to himself, but he didn’t stop moving. The forest was bound to end. It always did. He was young, but he could climb _super_ good, and he knew what sorts of things were poisonous or safe to eat. Usually.

Hajime grinned and thumbed his walking stick. _It’s another adventure. Maybe I’ll find some cool bugs here!_ They could be added to his collection until it was time to release them, unless he managed to convince his parents to let him keep just _one_ more. Or two. Or twenty depending on how many he found. He wiggled, excited, the jars in his back clanking together quietly as he moved on further, a bounce in his step. He tried whistling, but it seemed like the forest swallowed the sound up, and so he gave up quickly, focused instead on anything that moved. A twitch of a leaf. The shiver of a branch. The rustles on the ground through the leaves and sticks and plants. A flash of rust-red.

Hajime stilled, eyes flying wide as he peered through the forest, searching, drinking in everything. _What was that?_ An animal, certainly, but a fox? A wild cat or dog? Maybe a strange squirrel? He wasn’t sure, so he held still, stick ready, eyes wide. Another thing flickered, stark white, dappled with other colors that blurred to fast.

Something rushed in front of his face and he jerked back, toppled to the ground and landed on his butt hard, but the sharp pain couldn’t pull his eyes away from the man that loomed before him. He was tall - taller than Hajime’s Dad even - with pale skin and huge eyes, as wild and fiery as the leaves above them. He wore a white kimono that faded into brilliant leaves and flowers in vibrant reds, oranges, golds, and pinks at the base, and wore a haori that almost looked like it was made of maple leaves.

But, what really drew Hajime’s eyes were the two ears that poked out from his head, fox-like and the thick tails that stretched out behind him, the same brown as his hair and shot through with autumn colors that caught the light before ending in a white tip. _Seven_ tails. Hajime blinked, eyes somehow finding the space to stretch wider. “Kitsune?” he breathed.

The man - creature? - smiled, sharp canines flashing as he crouched down to Hajime’s level, head slowly cocking to the side. “Don’t you know it’s dangerous to be in these woods?”

Hajime blinked, slowly nodded his head.

“Where did you come from?”

Hajime pointed behind him.

The kitsune sighed. “You must have accidentally found a weak link between our worlds. Come.” Smoothly, the kitsune rose to his feet, leaves spinning around them in a gentle wind as his hands stretched out, tipped with white claws. Hajime swallowed, pulled his hands in closer. The kitsune sighed and rolled his eyes. “Trust me, human flesh isn’t to my liking. Though, there are _some_ here who would love to get their paws on a human boy.”

Hajime stuck his hand out and grabbed the kitsune’s hand tight.

The demon smiled, gentle. “Good boy. What’s your name?”

“Iwaizumi Hajime,” he whispered.

The smile stretched a little wider. “Hajime, huh?”

His fingers twitched in the demon’s hand. “What’s your name?”

A slender brown brow arched up. He glanced up, autumn-colored eyes dancing over the leaves. “My name… it’s been so long since I had one.” Hajime stopped dead in his tracks and stared at the demon, who fell still when he realized Hajime was no longer moving. They blinked at each other, the demon’s eyes narrowed with confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“You… don’t have a name?”

A toothy smile flashed, sad. “No. I lost my name a long time ago.”

Hajime tugged on the demon’s hand as he stepped closer. He didn’t look scary. Just sad. Lost. Like he didn’t really know what he was doing, who he was. “Do you want a name? Everyone needs a name?”

The demon’s head cocked to the side. If possible, he looked even _more_ confused than he had before. But Hajime tugged on his hand again. “Can I give you a name?”

The demon actually looked away, cheeks coloring a little as his eyes crinkled. “I… guess you can.”

“Tooru!” The demon’s eyes flicked back to him. “Just… Tooru?”

Hajime huffed and rolled his eyes. “ _Fine._ Hmm… What about… Yamato? No… You can’t be an Iwaizumi… I have a friend called Hanamaki and Matsukawa, but… Oh! I know! Oikawa! You can be Oikawa Tooru!”

Lips rose. Fiery autumn eyes softened. “Oikawa Tooru… I like it.”

Hajime squeezed Tooru’s hand a little tighter. “Me too!”

Tooru squeezed his hand back and glanced up to the path in front of them. “Well, little Hajime… Let’s get you back home. I’m sure your parents will be missing you soon.”

A sinking feeling coursed through Hajime, but he nodded silently and allowed Tooru to lead him. His legs got tired quickly and Tooru offered to carry him, but Hajime refused, set on walking on his own, and Tooru laughed at that. But they reached the end too quick, a place that looked just like the rest of the forest, only two trees stood a meter apart, their branches curving overhead between them and lacing together, making a strange doorway. The air felt different - a little heavier, but familiar all at the same time.

Tooru stilled in front of it and turned to Hajime, sinking down to his level, hands settling on his shoulders. “Hajime,” he said softly, “This place is very dangerous. It’s easy to wander back here. However, if you want to return, please tell me now and I will give you my blessing. It will bring me to you whenever you enter, whenever you are in danger.”

Hajime’s eyes flew wide and he grinned, showing off all those missing and crooked teeth. “I wanna come back! I wanna see you again, Tooru!”

Tooru smiled. “I would like that too, Hajime.” Tooru leaned forward and Hajime’s eyes scrunched shut as he sucked down a deep breath. The scent of wood smoke filled his nose, brought up memories of the trip to the lake where they’d tried an American treat - _s’mores._ He could almost taste the sweetness, could almost feel the breeze off the lake - but it was only Tooru’s lips pressing to his forehead, lingering for a moment as Hajime nearly melted into him before they pulled apart, blinking at one another. Hajime smiled shyly. Oikawa’s face was blank, but the fires in his eyes were dancing. “Go safely.”

“Take care of yourself, Tooru.”

Hajime leaned up and kissed Tooru’s forehead before he whirled around and darted through the trees. The world rippled around him, autumn colors melting into greens, and suddenly he was back in a familiar forest. He turned around, eyes widening when he saw trees, just like the ones Tooru had taken him to, and he smiled. _I gotta remember this._

He turned back and headed through the woods, careful to find things to lead him back, bouncing on his toes all the way back. He made sure to walk it twice before he was satisfied, and then he sprinted his way home, nose filled with the scent of smoke, autumn colors still dancing in his eyes.


	6. Clarity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 6: **Fairytale** /Anomaly  
> TW: gore, violence
> 
> The apparition smiled sadly, fingers curling by his sides. _“Leave now, or you will never return.”_
> 
> “I cannot,” Iwaizumi called back, just as hushed, “I have a quest.”

Iwaizumi eyed the valley below, so thick with fog that he couldn’t see the lake he knew lay beneath. The blanket of gray stretched from one end to the other, thick, still - eerily so. No birds flew over it. No animals walked near it. Even the grass close to the edges had withered and died. His horse was unsettled, shifting nervously beside him, a true feat as she rarely startled at anything.

Though, considering what the villagers had told him, it wasn’t surprising. Even he could smell the stench of death in the air, lingering over the soft ground, stagnant with no winds. They’d told him of the apparition, the one who would appear and warn off those who dared to come, to try and scrounge for the bounty the lake had to offer. Apparently it was a young man, brown hair, dressed in white - a thing of pure beauty. One that would turn in an instant and slaughter whoever didn’t heed the warning. _A ghost maybe? Or perhaps a demon, though giving warnings isn’t exactly demon-like behavior._

He smoothed a hand along her neck as he turned to her and checked the satchels on her saddle one last time before he patted her flank. “Stay here.” Her tail flicked and she nickered at him, but he shrugged. He checked his knives and swords once more before he set off, slowly picking his way down the gentle slope, the soft sounds of his horse chasing him down.

The bank of fog rolled up to meet him, oppressive and thick, and it deadened the world the moment he stepped within, smothering even the sounds of his breathing, of his chainmail and blades. _Eerie._ But there was no changing it. They’d offered him the prize, begged that he try to do what no other had been able to do thus far. _Promising shit after nearly fifty years. Really what I look forward to, fighting apparitions and potentially dying. Whatever._

Iwaizumi kept one hand on a blade as he crept deeper in, the ground slowly shifting beneath his feet, leveling out, softening. He couldn’t see more than a meter in front of him. Even the beat of his heart felt muffled. He was seventeen steps in when something crunched underfoot and his head snapped down. A shattered rib cage lay there, gouge marks running along the length of the bones, nicks along the sides. Further in there was a thigh bone, not broken, but claws and teeth had scored it. “Well,” Iwaizumi muttered, “Looks like I’m in the right place.”

He rolled his eyes and carefully continued, wary of any more bones or weapons that could trip him up or any patches of peat that would bog him down. The stench grew stronger, tinged with fresher scents. Rot. Blood. He was nearly a hundred steps in when he came across the first smear of blood. _That’s probably the last soldier they sent up here._ Sure enough, his crest lay a little further beyond, a golden sun blazed on a blood-splattered white background. Iwaizumi knelt beside it, fingers running across the blood. Well dried, flaking off beneath his fingers.

He glanced up.

Eyes flew wide.

A young man stood - hovered? - a short distance away, green eyes boring holes into Iwaizumi. His white robes fluttered around him, swaying in a non-existent breeze, melting into pale skin. A light wreathed around him, almost like it emanated from his skin, and Iwaizumi watched as the apparition’s feet sank closer to the ground, barely skimming the top of the grass. Flowers unfurled beneath his feet, pale pink phlox twining its way up to skim toes and flesh. _Not the beast. Not a demon._

The apparition smiled sadly, fingers curling by his sides. _“Leave now, or you will never return.”_

“I cannot,” Iwaizumi called back, just as hushed, “I have a quest.”

The apparition’s brow furrowed, mouth parting, but a growl broke the quiet and Iwaizumi whipped around, knives sliding into his hands as he glared at the fog. He couldn’t see anything shifting through it, no dark shapes marring the endless sea of white. He spun slowly, eyes narrowed, barely breathing as he let his senses wash over him. Heavy pants rippled through the fog. Footsteps made the ground shudder, impossible to pinpoint. The apparition flickered, face grief-stricken.

Air on his right.

Iwaizumi spun, rolling out of the way as a roar shattered the silence and something dark shot past. He was on his feet in a second, whipping around to face the beast, eyes flying wide. It was a hulking creature, one from the Otherworld that he hadn’t seen before, a great beast with a craggy back and glowing scarlet eyes. He sheathed one knife and pulled out his shorter sword, falling into a familiar stance as the beast turned, jagged teeth breaking through the dark reds that streaked it. Iwaizumi smiled. “Come on then.”

The beast rushed forward and he skipped to the side, dodging a claw-tipped paw that lashed out. He swung his blade, caught it on the joint, and it howled in pain as he slid back, bones crunching underfoot. It pawed at the ground, black blood oozing from the wound, and jerked it head up, eight eyes narrowed.

Iwaizumi thumbed the hilt of his sword, eyes sweeping across the armored hide, across every little bit he could see. _Too low to roll over. Three sets of teeth - caught by that and I’m fucked. Gotta watch out for the tail. Joints are the weakest spots and-_

The creature spun, tail whipping through the air, and Iwaizumi jerked back, eyes clenching shut. They were open a split second later, a sharp sting and warmth oozing down his face coming with. _Sharp tail._

He didn’t smear the blood off his nose, left it to run as he darted to the side, dodging another strike from the tail before the beast howled and crashed its way towards him, thunderous steps filling the air, leaving the ground beneath him heaving.

A great paw slashed towards him and he rolled in, right beneath the armpit, and thrust his knife in before he heaved himself out of the way before it could crash down on him or snap him up. It screamed, sharp, piercing, but he rose, teeth bared and black blood splattered all over him, hot and sticky, and faced the beast. Hundreds of teeth clicked together, eyes flickering as it turned, favoring the leg he’d just stabbed.

 _Smartening up, are we?_ He managed a smile with a subtle shake of his head. _Bastard._

He sheathed his sword, fingers dropping to finger his other knife, head emptying, a plan forming. The beast’s eyes lit up. A poison green tongue flicked out, tasted the air.

It darted in again, and this time he held still, waited until it was almost atop him before he leapt into the air, high enough to clear the jaws that came in low. His feet hit the back, jagged, uneven, and he listed to the side before he dropped low, sheathed a knife and grabbed onto one of the peaks that rose from its back. The beast howled, thrashed, but Iwaizumi stayed low, clinging to it, eyes narrowed, heart pounding in his ears.

It bucked, tried to throw him, and its tail lashed, but it didn’t roll over - _just like I thought._ Iwaizumi held tight, waited until there was a lull in the thrashing, and he thrust his hands forward, finding cracks and crevices in the armor for him to hold onto. Its head snapped from side to side, spittle flying everywhere, and he scrambled up the rest of the way, feeling, blind. Scales, roughness, armor - _skin._

Iwaizumi grinned, tore his blade out, and slammed it into place, burying it to the hilt. A guttural scream split the air as the beast rose onto its back legs, shuddering and twitching, head whipping from side to side, before it stilled.

Iwaizumi dug his fingers in, eyes clenched shut as the beast collapsed forward. His head snapped forward, hit the armor, and he rolled off the beast, body too limp to stay on it, and he slithered down, somehow managed to not impale himself on his blade.

He blinked. Found gray above. Licked his lips. Tasted blood.

Blinked again. A blob of color stood above, slowly fading in and out of focus. Brown. White. _“Hero, you must wake up. You’re not out of danger yet.”_

“Wha…?” he managed, tongue thick.

Something orange flickered. His arms shot up, weak, the knife slicing through emptiness - through flesh. A hideous scream broke the quiet and Iwaizumi blinked, found a bird-like creature above him, blood-streaked beak a palm-width away from his face. A tongue poked out, straining for him as the beak slowly clicked. Hate-filled black eyes narrowed, wings fluttering around them, spilling russet-colored feathers as red blood streamed from the wound in its belly from the knife that held it upright. Iwaizumi reached up, a trembling hand curling around its throat, and he clenched it tight, the Otherworld bird creature writhing at the touch.

Iwaizumi bared his teeth. “Fucking die already.” He heaved the knife up, tearing through flesh, a tide of organs and blood pouring onto him as the creature shuddered and collapsed. Iwaizumi shoved the head away with a groan and let his head fall back to stare at the blankness of the fog once more.

He must’ve lost consciousness, because when his eyes cracked open again it felt colder. _Maybe that’s just the blood._ That and the fact that it was almost night. His eyes closed.

Snapped open.

_Night._

He could _see the sky,_ stained with sunset colors and splattered with stars, a slice of the moon visible just overhead.

Iwaizumi thrust the bird off him and rolled over onto his hands and knees, eyes snapping across the land. No fog lingered. The only signs of what had happened for decades were the bone and armor that littered the landscape, picked clean. And, out on the lake, was a little island, a cottage sat right in the middle. _That… that wasn’t on the map._

Iwaizumi struggled to his feet, body heavy, head throbbing, but he still strode to the edge of the lake and peered in. It was dark, and fuck knew what lay within. _But the fog is gone. It may be safe._ Besides, there was no way to the center of the lake. No convenient boats. No magical beasts to sail him out there. Iwaizumi pursed his lips, glanced back to the corpses. No movement. He shed his weapons, all but a knife, kicked off his boots, stripped out of the chain mail, left himself standing in his tunic and breeches, still caked with blood.

He sighed, cast his eyes to the darkening skies above. “Sometimes, I wonder why the fuck I do this shit.” And then he waded out.

The water swallowed him up quickly, and he was only a few steps in before his feet left the bottom and he began to swim, quick, long strokes slicing through the water, carrying him towards the island in the middle. He reached it quickly and sloshed his way to the shore, shaking his head and wringing the water out of his tunic and breeches the best he could before he glared at the college and stalked up towards it. Curtains were drawn. A light was on, flickering in the windows, casting shadows. No smoke coming from the chimney. _Not fucking creepy at all._ It took a lot to not kick the door in, but instead he eased it open and poked his head in.

It was sparse, bare, and that drew his eyes straight to the bed on the far end. To the young man who lay there, curled up on his side with his hands curled to his chest, white robes draped all around him. Brown hair, dark in the shadows of the cottage. Pale skin. _The apparition._

Iwaizumi drifted forward, drawn in, and knelt beside the bed, fingers curling over the edge as he leaned close, enraptured. _So he was a warning._ A warning, and a prisoner. _You’ve been here for so long._ But he was still beautiful with delicate features, long lashes, thin fingers, full lips. Peaceful, still deep in the magic that had frozen him in time. His fingers crept forward, brushed across soft, warm skin and settled into silken brown locks. “You need to wake up now,” he whispered.

Eyes fluttered open, deep, dazed browns that stared at him, unfocused. The young man blinked. His brows furrowed. “Wh… at?” he croaked, voice rough.

Iwaizumi swallowed hard, managed a smile as his thumb whispered across the man’s hairline. “I’m here now. You’re safe.”


	7. Hello

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 7: Goodbyes/ **Hellos**  
>  SFW
> 
> “Hello,” he breathed. Hello to all the old melding with the new. Hello to another day with his breathtaking partner, no matter how it played out. Hello to all the possibilities that lay within, twisting and winding together, impossible to distinguish or make out, to unravel into individual paths. Hajime rolled his eyes, a faint smile tugging at his lips. 
> 
> “Hello,” he mumbled back.

Hajime’s fingers were something Tooru had memorized years before, back when they were young and just starting to experience the world, but even now he always found new things. His hands had slowly roughened up. He’d developed a callus on his middle finger from writing in the second grade. In junior high he’d broken his hand and had to get surgery, and a scar had formed, straight and across the back of his hand. In high school he’d jammed one finger and dislocated and broken another, and those two were perpetually crooked. More calluses had appeared over the years. More scars, ones from moving and box cutters, one from accidentally touching a blisteringly hot pan, one from when someone had tried to hit him with a broken beer bottle. 

They were hard hands, toughened from life, but he knew them like no other. The soft, intimate touches that trailed across his neck, a declaration of  _ mine _ that always left pleasant shivers rippling down his spin. The furtive ones from hasty quickies in the bathrooms, dressing rooms, closets, classrooms - anywhere they’d been able to get to quick enough. The angry and scared ones that had held him in place, so they could stop screaming at one another, so they could both see how much the other was hurting. The loving brushes of fingers across his cheeks, down his neck. Cautious, tender touches that brought him back from the brink, or ones that came when he did the same for Hajime. The ones that made him feel infinite as Hajime pressed kisses to him, taking trails of fire all across his body and reminding him of what it meant to feel alive. 

Tooru smiled. His hands had changed a lot over the years, but they were still Hajime’s - still beautiful and perfect, still a place he could call  _ home,  _ just like the rest of the body that lay beyond them. 

He trailed his fingers from Hajime’s palm up limp arms that stretched across the space that lay between them, as though he’d sought out Tooru during the night even though it was too hot to cuddle, too sticky to think about touching. His muscles had yet to start softening - rigorous exercise regimes kept them both in shape - but now, under the soft covers of dawn, they were loose, easy to trace as he made a meandering path along the muscles and up to his bicep where a tattoo lay - Godzilla and an alien head, with a red thread that bound them together. Tooru smiled, warmth tickling his chest, more pleasant than the heat of their apartment. 

He wanted to scoot closer, wanted to wrap himself in those arms he’d grown to love - or perhaps he’d always loved them, somewhere deep down at his very core, and only when he’d grown older had he been able to see it, see the beauty beneath that thick, harsh exterior. But the AC was out, wouldn’t be fixed for hours, and so he had to settle with whisper-soft touches trailed across Hajime’s skin, rising to his shoulder to caress the skin still raised and scarred from where he’d broken his collarbone two years before his volleyball career had ended. 

That had been a terrifying moment, but even now the horror had faded, leaving behind only a memory of panic and doubt, the faintest hints of sweat and muscle creams while the roars of the crowd fell into a hush around him. Tooru smiled.  _ I’m glad you’re safe. _

His path continued, creeping along veins and waves of muscle and bone, sneaking up Hajime’s strong throat to trace the hickies that lay there, sucked in hard the night before. Tooru grinned to himself, pleased, and pressed in a little on one that lay just to the right of the hollow of his throat, the largest of them, a beautiful purple and red.  _ Mine.  _ Just as he was Hajime’s, always and forever, from the time they’d joined one another in the nursery to the time they parted, and even in whatever lay beyond. His fingers trailed upwards, reversing the path of Hajime’s swallow to feel the flutter of his heart, the shift of skin as he slowly inhaled and exhaled, mesmerizing. 

He trailed his fingers along Hajime’s jaw, giggling silently at the stubble that had come in more than Hajime would find acceptable - Tooru had distracted him the other mornings before he could shave with purrs of  _ “It feels nice when you suck me off”.  _ Even now, years later, Hajime was weak, endlessly so, and it left them both a mess, delighted, pleased, basking in the glow that lingered. 

Tooru shook his head and worked his way up to run along an ear still studded with earrings, a nice variety that Tooru had given him over the years, little studs that slowly grew smaller as they worked their way up. The grays that had started to appear in Hajime’s hair were new, something they’d both noticed just the week before -  _ Thank God I don’t have mine yet -  _  and they were new, just like the tattoo that he knew lay behind Hajime’s ear, a tiny pawprint, but soon those too would become part of the Hajime he knew and loved, ever-changing, but always, in the end,  _ Hajime.  _

He ran his fingers down to Hajime’s cheeks, a soft smile tugging at his lips. He wanted to kiss Hajime, wanted to bite the scar that cut through his lip, wanted to tell him how handsome he was, how much he loved him because, despite the years, he could never find the words, could never possibly explain how or why he loved quiet moments where he could simply  _ study _ Hajime, why he adored every inch of his body, every scrap of his personality, even the parts that weren’t always so nice. 

The smelly farts and the gruffness, the sometimes too-harsh words and the rare cold distances, and the occasional mess were all things he could live with,  _ wanted  _ to live with, because it made Hajime _,_ no matter how much Hajime grew frustrated with himself over it, especially when those things left one or both of them hurting.  _ That’s okay though. We always come together in the end.  _ Because time without one another was like time without air - impossible to fathom, let alone survive. 

His eyes flickered. Green peeked out from beneath heavy lids. His head rubbed against the pillow. “Mm… Tooru?” 

“Hello,” he breathed. Hello to all the old melding with the new. Hello to another day with his breathtaking partner, no matter how it played out. Hello to all the possibilities that lay within, twisting and winding together, impossible to distinguish or make out, to unravel into individual paths. Hajime rolled his eyes, a faint smile tugging at his lips. 

“Hello,” he mumbled back.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, leave a comment, and hit me up at [fairylights101writes](http://fairylights101writes.tumblr.com/)


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